


Step Into the Ring for You

by DesireeArmfeldt



Series: I'm Your Man [2]
Category: due South
Genre: BDSM, Blindfolds, Bondage, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Gags, Kink Negotiation, Love, M/M, POV Third Person Limited, Painplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 53,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2416337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fraser likes BDSM and Ray is determined to give it to him, even though it's not really Ray's thing.  In which the kink negotiation continues, along with the evolution of their relationship, the sharing of secrets, quite a lot of sex, and a "home decorating project."  Follows directly from Another Kind of Love and refers to some of its events.  (Can probably be read alone, but will make more sense if you've read AKL.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> Warning #1: This is a long, talky story. If that's not your style, best to move along. :)
> 
> Warning #2: Like Another Kind of Love, this is a story in which Ray is engaging in kink despite not being entirely comfortable with it. It's entirely consensual, but in what someone has described as a voluntarily-doing-something-one-doesn't-want-to way. That said, I don't see the story as dark or depressing; it's about well-meaning but imperfect people with baggage loving each other and doing the best they can in a tricky situation. And making progress.
> 
> And a note: I have a blanket "transform my fanworks at will" policy posted, but this one's a special case: I'd prefer no sequels/remixes of fics in this series.

The way Ray figured it, he ought to be getting used to having Benton Fraser turn his whole world upside-down.  First there was the black-and-white-to-Technicolor way life had changed the minute Fraser walked into the bullpen and started showing Ray what he was _really_ in for with this Vecchio gig.  Then, when he’d just about gotten used to maintaining the right in wildly bizarre ways with a guy who drove him nuts but also gave him a reason to get up in the morning, there was the second bombshell.  He’d found out that a) he loved Fraser like _in love_ loved him, and b) the kicker was, Fraser loved _him_ the same way.  Fraser wanted to be his lover, which was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to Ray in his life.

And then, while Ray was still getting used to not being single any more, Fraser had turned Ray's life— _their_ life—upside-down again.

To be fair, that time had mostly been Ray's fault.  He was the one who had pushed Fraser to admit that he wanted something Ray wasn't giving him in bed.  And Ray was the one who had said, “You want me to order you around and hurt you and humiliate you?  I'm game, buddy, let's give it a try.”

Well, of course, it hadn't been that simple.  The first time they had experimented, Ray had freaked out, which had, understandably, freaked Fraser out. So then Ray had had to fight tooth and nail to convince Fraser to let him try the kinky stuff at all.  And when they had done it for real, it was weird, and harder than Ray had expected, and sometimes kind of creepy. But the longing in Fraser’s voice that first time, when he’d begged Ray to _Please, make me_ ; the way he’d just fallen apart in Ray’s hands when Ray urged him to _Be good_ . . .it was totally worth the price of admission.

Sure, they both knew this wasn't Ray's thing and he was only doing it to make Fraser happy. And sure, in a perfect world they would have both wanted the exact same kind of sex.  But in _this_ world, Ray wanted to blow Fraser's mind in the sack as much as Fraser blew his.  So if the way to do that was to spank him and give him orders, all right.  Fraser needed a lover who could. . .dominate him. . .in bed, and Ray was damn well going to be that guy.

Because here was the thing: he knew that anything Fraser wanted had to be. . .okay.  Bizarre or dangerous or gross or impossible, maybe; but see, the thing about Fraser was, he wanted everyone to be their best selves.  Which meant he would never want Ray to do anything truly fucked-up to him. Not just because Fraser didn’t want to _get_ abused for real. Because it wouldn’t be right for Ray to do it, and Fraser just didn’t _like_ things that weren’t right. Which was one of the things that Ray loved about him.

Of course, that was also why Fraser kept worrying that Ray might make himself unhappy, just to do what Fraser needed.  Because _that_ wouldn’t be right, either.

He’d thought that now that they’d actually done it a couple of times and talked some things through, Fraser might let go of some of that worry and trust that Ray was on board and okay with the whole thing. Because he _was_ ; after making it through that intense weekend of trying stuff out, he was starting to feel like he could actually handle it. But maybe Fraser wasn’t buying that, because that had been over a week ago, and ever since then, Fraser wouldn’t go anywhere near the idea of sex.  

He wasn’t shy about touching or cuddling and kissing; in fact, he’d been initiating that kind of thing even more than usual. But no sexy-vibes. Just Fraser being extra affectionate and attentive, like he was trying to reassure Ray, although Ray wasn't sure whether the message was supposed to be _it's okay to do this_ or _it's okay not to_. Either way, he appreciated the attention, which he gave Fraser right back, trying to send his own reassuring-vibes.   _We're good. Ray’s good with this. It's all good._

But one thing was clear: when it came to actually making the kinky sex happen, the ball was in Ray's court. Well, fair enough; he was supposed to be the guy giving the orders, after all. The man with the plan. He just. . .needed a plan.

Meanwhile, he tried other ways of reassuring Fraser, too.  Like on Wednesday night when they were eating dinner, he got Fraser to tell him some more about the rules of the game (all casual, hey look, no big deal, right?). That went okay: Fraser seemed happy to talk about procedure and Ray got some handy tips, like how to check if the other guy’s doing okay without totally breaking off the action. Fraser was acting kind of squirrely, though, which, Ray couldn’t tell if that was excitement or worry. And he was definitely still being cagy about the details of what he liked and what he'd done and who he'd done it with. So Ray didn’t push; his goal was to put Fraser at his ease, not give him the third degree.

What he figured would really reassure Fraser, though, was a hands-on demo of just how okay Ray was with this new kind of sex.  That more-than-a-week since the last time they’d tried it was also more than a week since they'd had sex at all, because Ray was worried that if he made love to Fraser the regular way first, Fraser would take that as a signal that he wasn't really down with the new way after all.  Which he totally was.  He just needed to find a good opportunity and make sure they had time to do it right.

So, Friday night was showtime, as in show-Fraser-a-good-time.  Time for Ray to put his money where his mouth was.  He’d been antsy all day, thinking about it.  Trying to plan, but mostly just trying not to get all nervous and second-guess himself. Kind of like the feeling he always got just before starting an undercover gig. 

 _You know how to do this,_ he reminded himself, like his Dad used to remind him on the way to a Little League game, when he was a kid.   _Once you get in there, you’ll know what to do, just let it come natural._

_Just don’t do anything stupid, okay?_  Stella used to add that, when she was talking him down from his jitters over one thing or another. Teasing, because she knew that was exactly what he was afraid of, but her smile turned it into a private joke between the two of them.  Something he could handle.  Of course, somewhere along the line, it had stopped being a joke, because Stella had stopped believing in him.  But it was still her voice in his head he heard, sometimes, when he was struggling not to screw up.   _Use your words, Ray.  Count to ten.  Don’t do anything stupid._

 _There’s very little I wouldn’t trust you with,_ the Fraser-voice in his head countered.  Which was reassuring and terrifying both at the same time.

He played it kinda-sorta cool all through dinner and after-dinner chess, where Fraser wiped the floor with him because Ray’s attention span was down to about thirty seconds.  When he had to surrender his king for the third time, he figured the universe was trying to tell him to quit stalling. So he stood up with what he hoped was a seductive smile, and suggested they hit the sack.  

When Fraser sat down on the edge of the bed to take off his boots, Ray joined him, sliding an arm around his waist and nuzzling the side of his neck. Fraser rolled his head slightly to expose more skin as he fussed with his laces.

“So. . .” Ray kissed Fraser’s neck from the collar of his shirt to the spot behind his ear, which got a soft moan out of him. “I was wondering. . .” The words still felt weird and awkward, but he got them out in a breathless rush as he slid his free hand up Fraser’s chest. “. . .If you want to be good for me tonight.”

“Yes, Ray,” Fraser said quietly, pulling his boots off. He set them out of the way, by the wall, then sat still with his back straight and his palms on his knees.

“Okay,” Ray muttered, mostly to himself, and then louder and firmer, for Fraser: “Okay. Good.”

The way Fraser just dropped right into it had Ray a little off-balance, but hey, no problem, he could roll with the punches. He took Fraser’s face in his two hands and gave him a lingering kiss, just to remind them both what this was really all about before they got started. As he let go, he trailed his thumb down Fraser’s cheek and grinned, a little dangerous, a little predatory, dropping into character.

“Stand up,” he said, pointing to the little bit of floor space between the foot of the bed and the closet. “Over there.”

Fraser complied. As he positioned himself, he quietly said, “Thank you, Ray.”

Ray stopped himself from asking, _for what?_ It was nice of Fraser to say, he guessed, but he didn’t really want to think of this as a favor he was doing Fraser. Even though it kind of was. 

He kicked off his own shoes, then made himself comfortable on the bed with his back up against the wall and his legs sprawled apart.

“Strip for me,” he told Fraser, looking him up and down deliberately with a cocky smile. “And make it a good show.”

Fraser gave him a smile that somehow straddled _shy_ and _cheeky_ with a bit of _come fuck me_ thrown in.  Ray watched him slowly slide both thumbs under his left suspender, just above his belt.  He slowly ran his thumbs up and down, like he was really into how the material felt on his skin.  Then he dropped the smile and looked at Ray intently—studying his reactions.  Like it was important that Ray liked what he was doing.

That sure as hell didn’t do anything to help Ray feel less self-conscious.  But bluffing more confidence than he felt: that, he knew how to do.  So he grinned at Fraser as he rested his right hand on his crotch.  It was just for show, but the warm pressure did help his cock start perking up a little.

Fraser wrapped both his thumbs up in his suspenders, just above his waistband.  Then he pulled his right thumb free, sliding it suggestively up his chest.  He’d left himself enough slack that he could move his bound left thumb up to his collarbone, too. Finally, he slid his right thumb under his right suspender, twisting it the same way, framing his chest.

Eyebrows raised, Ray let his gaze travel down Fraser’s body and back up to his face.  He shifted his legs a little wider apart with his fingers splayed lazily between them. Fraser’s eyes followed the motion; he tilted his chin, smiling like he enjoyed both showing off the goods and Ray’s reaction.  Which was kind of fun, but kind of weird, because even though Fraser wasn’t normally shy about getting naked for him, it was jarring to see him _performing_ like this. Nothing stiff or tentative about it. Like he enjoyed putting himself on display, like this was something he did all the time. . .which, Ray realized, wasn’t actually all that far from the truth.  Fraser probably _had_ done this a lot. Probably with a bunch of different people.  It was probably something he’d _practiced._

Which Ray didn’t really want to think too hard about right this second.   

“Hey,” said he sharply. “I said a show, not a glacier. I want to see some skin before I die of old age.”

Fraser whipped his left hand down, untangled his thumbs, and pulled off his shirt before Ray could blink. Ray wondered whether Fraser was jerking his chain or just being really literal-minded about following orders.

“Didn’t ask for an escape artist routine, neither.” He crossed his arms and gave Fraser a stern look. “Come on, I know you know better than that. It’s called a strip _tease_ for a reason.”

“Of course, Ray,” Fraser replied.

He stretched, his hands reaching for the ceiling, then posed briefly before dropping them down to smooth his hair back into place. That done, he slid his palms deliberately down his chest to his waistband. He carefully undid his pants, bending over to slide them off with his face tilted up for Ray to see. He kicked the pants aside before slowly standing back up again. He removed his boxers the same way and stood naked, half-hard, placing his hands behind his head as he stretched again to pose for Ray with a smile that looked more seductive than submissive.

Ray kind of liked that smile, but he couldn’t get a read on how much Fraser was playing around versus how much he. . .wasn’t.  He certainly didn’t seem to be as deeply into it as he’d gotten the couple of other times they’d tried this stuff.  But maybe that was just because Ray hadn’t really _done_ much, yet.  Or maybe it was because Ray didn’t actually know how to get him to the happy place.

Well, damn it, he was going to give it his best try. 

“That’s good.” Ray nodded. “Knew you had it in you.”

Fraser smiled at the praise and shifted his pose slightly.

Ray got up and stalked slowly over to him, peeling off his own shirt and dropping it on the floor. He walked a circle around Fraser, examining him, then ran his hands over Fraser’s chest, first palms, then a gentle scratch of fingernails. Fraser inhaled sharply but said nothing. Ray ran his nails all the way down to Fraser’s groin. Then he took hold of Fraser’s cock and gave it a single squeeze.

“Now, here’s what you’re going to do,” he said conversationally, looking Fraser right in the eyes. With his left hand, he took Fraser’s right and wrapped it around Fraser’s partly-hardened cock.

“You’re going to take care of this for me while my hands are busy, see? Going to get yourself all nice and ready for me. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes, Ray,” Fraser said. “Although. . .” He broke off.

Ray took him by the chin. “What? You got a problem with that?”

“No, Ray,” Fraser said, pushing his cock against their joined hands. “I just. . .I don’t want to. . .” He shifted his hips so Ray could feel just how quickly he was getting nice and ready. “Not too soon, Ray,” he finally said, almost shyly. “Not before you want me to.”

“That’s right.” Ray gave Fraser’s chin a little shake for emphasis. “Not before I want you to. Because I am going to fuck you through the goddamned mattress tonight, and I am going to be inside you when you come. You got that?”

“Yes. . .Ray,” Fraser whispered, and there it was. No trace of a smirk any more, just that bone-deep pleasure Ray wanted to see. He relaxed a little; they were on track, now; this was going to work.

“Okay, then.” He squeezed Fraser’s hand around his cock, hard, then let go and stepped back to watch.

Fraser closed his eyes briefly as he gently stroked himself. He sighed and then it looked like he had to force himself to open his eyes to look at Ray, his face open and vulnerable. His lower lip disappeared into his closed mouth; he was obviously biting it.

He looked so sweet and hot like that, Ray just had to lean in and give him a quick soft kiss. Fraser’s lip came out from between his teeth as he opened his mouth against Ray’s. With a happy sigh, Ray flicked his tongue over Fraser’s lip.

“That’s right,” he murmured as he pulled away. “That’s good, you just keep that up.”

He patted Fraser’s shoulder, then walked around behind him, undoing his own belt and jeans as he went. He could hear Fraser’s little noises of pleasure, see the small motions of his back and shoulder as he did what Ray had told him to.

Ray pressed himself up against Fraser’s back and licked the back of his neck, rubbing his crotch against Fraser’s ass. He had his hand wrapped around his belt buckle to keep it from digging into Fraser’s back, although probably Fraser would have liked it perfectly fine if Ray had just let it poke him.

The feel of that buckle in his hand gave him an idea. He let go of Fraser and slipped the belt free of its loops as he stepped out of his jeans. He held it in his two hands for a moment, remembering Fraser sniffing at his shirt that first time, how he’d said he liked the smell of Ray’s holster. _Intoxicating_ , that was what he’d called it.

Ray brought the end of the belt up and rubbed it gently across Fraser’s cheek.

Fraser actually whimpered a little. His hand dropped to his side. Ray grinned before he realized there was a ball to keep his eye on.

“Hey,” he said sharply in Fraser’s ear. “Did I say you could stop?”  
  
“No, Ray,” Fraser said apologetically. “But you also said you wanted to be inside me when I come. I can’t. . .I can’t do both, Ray.”

Ray blinked in surprise. _Seriously?_  
  
“It’s all right,” he said hastily. “You don’t have to. Just hang on, that’s the important thing. You can do that for me, can’t you?”  
  
Fraser nodded quickly.  
  
“Good,” Ray told him. “That’s what I want to hear.”

He ran the belt across the back of Fraser’s neck, then down the side of his arm, and watched, fascinated, as goosepimples rose on Fraser’s skin. Fraser moaned again. Ray checked his face. . .his eyes were still closed and his skin was starting to shine with sweat. It was a little weird, just watching Fraser like this when Fraser wasn’t looking back, wasn’t touching him or doing anything at all. But on the other hand, it was less embarrassing to play this game if no one was watching him—which, okay, wasn’t logical, but it was true anyway. And. . .there was something kind of freeing about being able to look at Fraser as much as he wanted, however he wanted, without worrying about Fraser _seeing_ him looking.

He draped the belt over Fraser’s shoulder, letting the loose end dangle down his back, then pulled gently as he walked slowly around to Fraser’s front again. Fraser held still, but he bit his lip again as the leather slid across his skin.

Licking his own lips, Ray stepped in and dropped both his hands over Fraser’s head with the belt held between them. He ran it along the back of Fraser’s neck, then brought his right hand forward to press the leather gently against Fraser’s mouth.

Fraser’s eyes opened suddenly. He looked at Ray almost innocently as he opened his mouth to lick at the belt. Ray smiled and pulled it a little tighter against Fraser’s mouth.

“Somebody likes that, huh?”

Fraser moaned into the leather.

“Oh yeah. . .” Ray whispered as he let his hard-on brush against Fraser’s. The contact sent a hot shiver through him, but Fraser didn’t react. He was way too much into the belt, licking it, brushing his lips against it. As Ray watched him enjoying that, and tried to figure out how to get himself back into the action, he remembered Fraser asking how he felt about gags, and he wondered what else Fraser might like him to do with the belt.

He walked back around behind Fraser, trailing the belt over Fraser’s shoulder and down his back. Then he pulled it tight in two hands so the leather pressed just a little into the soft flesh of Fraser’s ass. Fraser shifted just enough to press back against the belt.

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, Ray.”

Ray shivered. The sound of Fraser’s voice when he really wanted something, that got to him every time. But. . .well, okay, there were a lot of things he could have been asking for, and Ray didn’t really have a clue, but ( _You could hit me anywhere. Not with fists. . ._ ) maybe he kind of did.

He pressed the belt harder, letting it really dig into Fraser’s ass.

“Please what?” he said through his teeth. “You got something to say to me?”

“Could you. . .” Fraser broke off for a long pause. “Anything, Ray,” he finally said. “Anything you want.”

 _Damn it all._ Ray bit his lips, looking at the taut leather between his hands, black against Fraser’s pale skin. It wouldn’t be so hard, would it? He pictured the swing of his arm, the smack of the leather on flesh.

 _No._ His stomach clenched, his heart pounding sickeningly.

 _He wants it, he likes it,_ he reminded himself, trying to get a grip. _It’s not, it wouldn’t be. . ._ But it didn’t help. He was a fucking idiot, was what he was, for playing with something he wasn’t going to follow through on, damn it, and now Fraser was standing there waiting for him to do something, _anything_. . .

He took a breath, pulling himself together. He looped the belt around Fraser’s waist, took both ends in one hand, then dropped his other hand to Fraser’s cock as he ground his crotch hard up against Fraser’s ass.

“Already told you what I want,” he whispered fiercely. “So let’s get the fucking show on the road.”

Fraser’s head tilted back to rest against Ray’s shoulder.

“Please stop,” he said through clenched teeth. “Please. . .unless you want me to. . .just, a minute, please, Ray, I just need a minute or I’m going to. . .” He made a broken sound and rubbed his cock against Ray’s hand. “I can’t. . .not. Help me, Ray. Help me be good?”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” breathed Ray, shuddering as he pulled Fraser tight against him. His cock jerked against Fraser’s ass. “All right, you’re all right, you’re good, you’re doing good,” he murmured in Fraser’s ear as he carefully took his hand away from Fraser’s cock and wrapped both arms around him instead. “I got you, buddy. You’ve been so good, just hang on a little bit longer. I know you can do it.”

“Thank you,” Fraser breathed. His body stiffened and then he slowly relaxed each muscle group one by one, still leaning against Ray. “I think. . .I think it’s all right now,” he said, sounding a little calmer. “I think I can be. . .what you want.”

 _What I want? What do I want?_ thought Ray stupidly, clinging onto Fraser like one of them was maybe going to fall down if he let go, though he wasn’t sure who.

“Okay.” He kissed Fraser softly on the back of the neck. “Okay. Then get on the bed.” He let go of Fraser, let the belt swing free, and gave him a little pat on the ass. “Go on.”

“Do you want me on my front or on my back?” Fraser asked.

Ray hesitated.

“On your back.” It would be harder to keep up the harsh act that way, but damn it, he wanted to see Fraser’s face.

Fraser stood up straight, and went to sit down on the bed, moving slow, like it was hard for him to step away from Ray. He leaned back on his elbows to scoot himself backward up onto the bed, stared straight at Ray for a moment, then lay back flat with his arms at his sides and his face turned to the ceiling.

Ray walked slowly around to the side of the bed, coiling the belt, which he laid down on the nightstand. He took a second to finally get rid of his underwear, picked up the bottle of lube from the nightstand, then looked down at Fraser again. Fraser held still, except for how his hands were making fists in the sheets.

Ray stroked the bottle with his thumb, considering. He already knew Fraser liked being fucked rough; he was pretty sure he hadn’t found Fraser’s limit for that, yet. And even though Ray didn’t _want_ to hurt him at all, somehow when it was fucking, it was easier to believe it when he told himself, _It’s okay, it’s what Ben wants._ On the other hand, they hadn’t talked about this, exactly, and it was a hell of a thing to get wrong. 

He put a knee on the mattress and swung his other leg over to straddle Fraser. He put his palm against Fraser’s cheek to get his attention. Fraser pressed his face into Ray’s hand.

“You know what I’m going to do to you now?”

“Fuck me, Ray,” Fraser said dreamily. “Right through the mattress.”

Ray nearly choked at hearing those words come so easily out of Fraser’s mouth. He knew by now that Fraser could perfectly well swear when he felt like it, but his bad language usually stayed biblical.

“That’s right,” Ray said. “And because you’ve done so good getting ready for me, I’m going to give you a reward.” He took a breath, hoping he wasn’t about to screw something up. “Now, there’s two ways we can do this.”

He squirted some lube into his hand and rubbed it over his cock, which felt so good that he had to bite back a groan. It took him a couple of seconds before he could pick up his casual tone again.

“We can do this the easy way,” he said, holding out the bottle over his open hand, watching Fraser’s face carefully. “Where I finish getting you ready, like I usually do. Or you can tell me you’re ready now, and we can do it the hard way.” He closed his hand and dropped both of them to his sides, out of Fraser’s view. “You get to pick.”

“I’m ready now, Ray,” Fraser said, smiling up at him eagerly. “Green,” he added.

“What?” blurted Ray, startled, before he remembered, _Right, that’s the all-clear._ Fraser had explained that that was a way he could check in if he was worried that Fraser was too far into _subspace_ to know what he was consenting to: ask for a color. Green for _all good_ , yellow for _dangerous territory,_ red for _stop_. He’d half-forgotten about that, and he hadn’t expected Fraser to do it unprompted, but great: Fraser knew what he wanted and he wasn’t upset by the fact that Ray had asked him to choose, either. “Oh. Yes. Okay.”

His hands were shaking as he gave himself some more lube, but it was okay, he could do this. When he reached over to put the bottle back on the nightstand, his fingers brushed against the coiled belt, and hey, why not? He snagged it and unrolled a stretch of leather in front of Fraser’s mouth.

“Bite on that,” he said. Fraser licked the belt before taking it between his teeth.

Ray shifted back with his knees between Fraser’s thighs. He rolled Fraser backwards and lifted his legs onto Ray’s shoulders. Taking his own cock in one hand, he paused to stroke Fraser’s with the other. Fraser’s breath hissed around the belt.

Ray sucked in a breath of his own, positioned himself carefully, took a firm grip on Fraser’s thighs, and shoved hard.

It was tighter than he’d imagined; if he’d been any gentler, he might have just bent himself and not made it in at all. As it was, Fraser’s grip around him almost hurt, but it was also intense enough to make him groan and throw his head back. He felt Fraser arch under him at the same time.

He forced his eyes open to make sure Fraser was okay. Fraser’s head was thrashing, his eyes closed tight, and he was moaning steadily against the belt, like maybe he was actually trying to say something. That was good, oh yeah; that turned Ray on but good. He pulled back a little and thrust sharply in again, panting hard.

Fraser’s hands twisted the sheets as his head kept moving from side to side. His face and chest were slick with sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead in damp waves. Inside, he was still clenched tight, but the pressure eased off as Ray thrust again.

Ray groaned, letting his fingernails dig into Fraser’s thighs as he slammed up against his ass. It was getting harder to think about anything but the hot pleasure washing over him, but he couldn’t lose it, not yet, he still had to take care of Fraser, whose moans were sounding more and more desperate. Ray had said—what had he said? _Right. . ._

He pried one hand off of Fraser’s leg and reached down to wrap it around his cock, shaking with the effort not to clutch too hard. Fraser thrashed under him. The urgent noises he was making. . .those were new, Ray hadn’t heard anything like that from Fraser before. They went straight to his gut, sending happy, longing shudders all through him. _Yes! Like that! More!_. . .He just wanted to lose himself in Fraser’s body, in those deep groans coming out of him that twisted Ray up inside, but no, not yet. . .

“It’s all right now,” he said, struggling to put the words together. “You don’t got to wait any more.” He gave Fraser’s dick a squeeze as he rolled his hips, thrusting in deep.

The belt dropped from Fraser’s mouth as he pitched his head back, howled, and came. It was exactly what Ray had wanted to see: Fraser losing it, lost in it. He hung on tight—feeling Fraser’s come slick in his hand, Fraser’s body writhing under his, the squeeze of Fraser’s muscles around Ray’s cock—so caught up in Fraser’s pleasure that he almost forgot his own.

Fraser ran out of breath but was only quiet for a second.

“Ray,” he said. “God, _Ray_.”

His body started to calm down, his face relaxed, and his voice was down to a hoarse whisper as he said, “Ray, I love you, I love you so much.”

Those words, and the reminder that this was for him, _because_ of him, squeezed Ray’s heart and sent a fresh jolt of lust through him. He moaned, and maybe there were words in there, maybe _Ben_ at least, he wasn’t sure. Then he was moving again, one hand reaching out for Fraser’s and the other hanging onto him for dear life as Ray thrust in and out of his body, which was hot and open for him now. He was drowning in feeling, everything gone but the need and the rising pleasure—and then the surge hit him, wiped his brain and left him loose and trembling, sprawling on top of Fraser, hugging him with his whole body.

“Ray?” Fraser asked softly. He was still holding Ray’s hand, stroking it gently with his thumb.

“Hmm?” Ray had absolutely no words to give him, except something was nagging at the back of his brain, there _were_ words, there were supposed to be words, because he was still on-duty and he still had to. . .

“That’s it,” he gasped against Fraser’s neck, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt. “We’re done. I’m telling you: we’re done.”

Fraser immediately wrapped his arms and legs around Ray, holding him close.

“Ray,” he said, and maybe Ray was not really all present or accounted for, but Fraser sounded like he was back from. . .wherever. “That was. . .” His voice trailed off.

 _Ha. Maybe he’s not so together after all_. Ray couldn’t help feeling a little smug, but mostly he just felt incredibly. . .tender. Tender toward Fraser, tender himself.

Fraser stroked Ray’s back and Ray snuggled closer, holding onto him as well as he could while his body relaxed in Fraser’s embrace.

“It was incandescent,” Fraser said softly.

Ray smiled sloppily against Fraser’s chest. He was still too fuzzy-headed to make actual words, but he made some contented sound. Figured Fraser would know what he meant. He was starting to drift, still buzzed from the orgasm, his head spinning from the whole thing, but mostly just fucked out, wiped out and relieved that he’d gotten them through this, that he’d managed to give this to Fraser and now he could stand down, let go, finally just stop thinking.

When a gap opened between him and Fraser’s warm skin, Ray moaned a little in protest, but it turned out Fraser was just making a long arm to snag his canteen from the nightstand.

“Here,” Fraser said. “Roll over.” He helped Ray onto his back, gently cradling his head as he held the canteen to Ray’s mouth.

“’S that for?” Ray mumbled as he tried to wiggle a little more upright against Fraser’s shoulder. “’M not drunk.”

“I thought you might be dehydrated just the same,” Fraser said. “I know I am.”

Ray giggled a little at how Fraser-like that sounded, but he let Fraser feed him a couple of swallows of water. It should have felt weird—he wasn’t a baby and he wasn’t injured or anything—but honestly, what he felt was just. . .nice. Safe. Loved.

“You too, then,” he said, or tried to say, giving the canteen a little nudge in Fraser’s direction. But his eyes had already drifted closed.

He felt Fraser gently shift him around and settle the sheet over him. A couple of drops of water fell on his face as Fraser drained the canteen. Ray almost woke up enough to laugh when he heard the canteen hit the wall and then the floor, but by then Fraser was wrapped around him again and sleep seemed like the best possible use of his time.

 

 

                          *                                  *                                  *

 

 

Halfway through his second cup of coffee, Ray finally started to wake up for real, as opposed to the zombie auto-pilot mode that had gotten him from the bedroom to the bathroom to the breakfast bar, where Fraser had put food in front of him with a cheery morning-person smile. Fraser was still doing the cheery morning-person thing now, whistling softly as he scrubbed the oatmeal pot. 

When he came over to sit next to Ray, he looked so damn relaxed and happy that Ray’s usual morning crankiness evaporated. Grinning, he reached over to ruffle Fraser’s hair.

“Happy morning,” he told Fraser, who reached up to smooth his hair, then stopped and deliberately put his hand back on the counter, leaving his hair still mussed.

“Is it?” he asked. He was smiling and his tone was light, but there was a hint of worry in his eyes.

“Sure,” said Ray. But Fraser’s smile was looking less and less convincing.

Ray drained his mug and held it out for a refill. He wanted all the awake he could get his hands on if they were going to actually talk about stuff. As Fraser poured the coffee, Ray touched his wrist.

“It’s okay,” he said. “Honest.”

“More than okay for me,” Fraser said shyly, eyes fixed on the coffee pot as topped up his own mug, then set the pot down.

Ray found himself grinning stupidly. He put down his mug so he could take Fraser’s hand in both of his.

“You were really into it, huh?” he asked, looking down at Fraser’s hand because he couldn’t quite manage to say it to Fraser’s face.

“I’d like to think I wasn’t entirely alone,” Fraser said quietly.

Flashes of memory from the night before hit Ray: Fraser’s urgent moans and the way his head thrashed when Ray drove into him; his voice when he said he was going to lose it if he kept touching himself; the intensity of feeling Fraser’s orgasm all around and under him. . .

“No.” Ray’s cheeks were burning, but he made himself look directly at Fraser. “It was good. For me.” Except for a couple of bad moments, but he’d gotten past those, and the rest had been. . .hard work, yeah, but still. . .good.

Fraser still wasn’t looking at him; his cheeks were as red as Ray’s felt.

“I. . .what you did. . .I liked it, Ray.”

Ray felt a twinge of guilt about what he _hadn’t_ done, but this wasn’t the moment to bring that up. Not when it sounded like Fraser maybe had something he was trying to work around to saying.

“Yeah?” He kissed Fraser’s palm.

“Yeah,” Fraser said. “You obviously put some thought into it, and that would’ve been enough in itself, but what you _actually_ did was. . .quite compelling.” He finally looked at Ray, pulling Ray’s hand over to kiss it in return. “Thank you for that.”

“Oh. Well, you’re welcome.” Ray flashed Fraser a smile before ducking his head again. “So, um. You didn’t mind that I kind of started improvising in there? I know you said you like being told what to expect, and I. . .we hadn’t talked about everything specifically, but I tried to stick with stuff I was pretty sure I knew you’d like. Was that okay?”  
  
“It was more than fine, Ray,” Fraser said earnestly. “It. . .I couldn’t forget who I was with, even if I had wanted to, which I can assure you was not the case. The way you improvised within the scene. That was something no one else would’ve done quite the same way.”  
  
“Is that a polite way of saying I messed it up ’cause I didn’t know what I was doing?” Ray said with a teasing smile, although he was starting to panic a little.  
  
“Good lord, no,” Fraser said emphatically. “Quite the opposite, in fact. You succeeded because you knew exactly what you wanted. And when I had difficulty. . .” He sounded like he was about to choke on his own words. “. . .Complying, you helped me be. . .how you wanted me to be. It was. . .well, I think my reactions probably spoke for me.” He was back to looking at everything that wasn’t Ray’s face. Ray squeezed his hand, nodding even though Fraser probably couldn’t see him.  
  
“You know, I. . .I didn’t mean to. . .to put you in that position,” he said. “I was trying to give you something to work for, is all. I didn’t mean for it to be impossible.”  
  
“I didn’t think you did,” Fraser said. “It seemed like you didn’t realize how strongly I would react to the stimuli I was given.”

“Yeah.” Ray smiled, flushing a little at the memory. “I mean, I hoped you’d like it and all, but. . .yeah.” He stroked Fraser’s fingers. “I, um, that was really. . .hot.”

“It was,” Fraser said, staring into the distance with a little smile. “Pure genius,” he added, turning the smile on Ray.

“Now you’re just buttering me up,” Ray muttered as he picked up his mug with his free hand and took a sip. It was dumb to be such a sucker for flattery; he couldn’t help it, though, especially when Fraser was the one dishing it out.

“So, but, is it a problem if I give you an order that’s impossible?” he asked. “I didn’t think you wanted to. . .” _Disappoint me._ Fraser had seemed pretty uncomfortable about the idea of even fake-disappointing Ray. “. . .Be set up to screw up.”

“Not especially. But I didn’t think you were doing that. I felt that I could tell you what was happening and you would help me. Which is precisely what happened.” Fraser sipped his coffee.

“You can, you know,” Ray told him. “I mean, you can tell me if I’m screwing something up, or if you need something. But it seems like. . .it would be better if you didn’t have to. Right? I mean. . .the whole point is for me to call the shots and for you. . .not to have to.”

“Being offered a choice worked out quite well for me toward the end of things,” Fraser said. His voice was mild, but the way his thumb was stroking Ray’s hand sure felt suggestive.

“Yeah?” Ray glanced at his face. “I didn’t know how to. . .I’d kind of painted myself into a corner there and I didn’t want to. . .I mean, I thought you’d be okay with skipping the prep, I thought you’d like that, but I wasn’t sure. But I also didn’t know if it was okay to ask what you wanted. It seemed like, I don’t know, breaking the rules.”

Fraser looked thoughtful.

“You offered me the choice between something we hadn’t done and something we’ve done many times. And I didn’t feel any pressure to pick the unknown over the known. In fact, I sensed your hesitation, which is why I used the color check-in to encourage you. I suppose if you’d offered me two options that we hadn’t either done or discussed before, that might have been more of a problem.”

“Well, yeah, I wanted to give you an out,” said Ray. “I didn’t want to put you in a position where you had to say no.”

“Well, I do have the security of knowing that if I had said no, you would’ve tried something else.”

Ray nodded. _‘No’ isn’t the end of the world,_ he told himself, but it was hard to really feel like that was true.

“So, but is that something I should try to stay away from if I can? Making you choose?”

“Some kinds of choice are fine. Remember what I said once about inevitability and desire?”

“Yeah.”

“The choice wasn’t whether or not you were going to fuck me,” Fraser said. “ _That_ was going to happen regardless. The choice was _how_ it was going to happen. It was. . .very compelling.”

“More than if I’d known you were okay with the hard way and just gone ahead and done it?” Ray asked, watching him carefully.

Fraser tilted his head thoughtfully.

“I’m really not sure. More than if you’d done it without saying anything, certainly. Perhaps I was responding to your articulating that it was going to happen, one way or another. Or perhaps. . .” He broke off for a moment.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “I was responding to the opportunity to be complicit in the act.”

“Because. . .” Ray frowned, trying to fit this new piece into the puzzle. “Because that way, you’re not just taking it, you’re also _doing_ something to please me?”

“That, too. And actively cooperating in my own. . .ah, ravishment?”

“Doesn’t that make it less ravish-y, if you’re cooperating?”

 _Ravish_ was a Stella word, and yeah, when she’d lie back and let Ray go to town pleasing her, she’d been actively cooperating, all right. Same as Ray had when he he’d been the one being ravished. But he’d thought Fraser was after something different, here.

“It’s a reminder that I am actively choosing to do this, that I’m not truly being coerced, that this is what I want. It’s _admitting_ that this is what I want, to you and to myself.”

“Oh.” Ray slid to his feet so he could put his arms around Fraser. “Yeah, that’s. . .that’s a good thing,” he murmured into Fraser’s hair.

“I hope so,” Fraser said, turning awkwardly on his stool to hug him back. “It. . .took me a long time to accept this about myself. To allow myself to want it. So saying it out loud like that, ‘yes, do that, do it harder, give me _more_ ’. . .It’s empowering, I think.” He pulled back to look at Ray. “And to be accepted, by you especially, is even better.”

Ray cupped Fraser’s face, brushed a thumb along his cheekbone, then kissed him softly.

“We’re in this together,” he said. “Complicit,” he added, giving Fraser a wink to lighten the mood a little.

“Co-conspirators,” Fraser said.

It did feel kind of like a conspiracy, their secret to keep from the rest of the world. Ray had always kind of gotten a thrill from walking around after he’d had sex, having regular normal conversations with people and thinking, _You don’t know what we did last night! Nobody knows but the two of us!_ This new stuff with Fraser was just the same, only. . .more so.

“Exactly.” He grinned and gave Fraser another quick kiss before sitting back down. “So, okay. Choices are. . .good sometimes. And so is you letting me know if I’m getting you into trouble. Or if you like something. That’s good too.”

“And being told I’m doing something right,” Fraser volunteered.

 _You say that like I have any idea what’s right,_ Ray thought, but he nodded.

“But I should try not to make it so you _can’t_ do it right.”

“Actually, Ray," Fraser said thoughtfully, “Trying to undercut someone's ability to follow an order, or giving competing or contradictory orders. . .those are all legitimate strategies in a scene.”

“Really?”  Ray frowned.  “What’s the point of that?  To have a reason to, um, punish the other person?”

“Frequently,” Fraser said.  “But sometimes it's about simply wanting to see how someone will react in such a scenario.”

“What, like the _Kobayashi Maru?”_

“The _Kobayashi_. . .Oh, like in the _Star Trek_ movie.”  Fraser smiled.  “Very apt allusion.”

Ray grinned in surprise.  

“You’ve seen—?  Never mind.  Yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“Something along those lines,” Fraser said.  “Some subs would ask, either for help or additional instructions.  Some would do their best without seeking aid.  Some would deliberately fail.”

“And you’d be the guy who reprograms the computer?” Ray suggested, still amused.

“That would be ‘topping from the bottom’,” Fraser said seriously.  “It’s not uncommon at all for a sub to be more controlling than his top, but it’s difficult.  For the top,” he clarified, then looked into the distance.  “‘What crueler torment than to be a masochist’s victim?’ As I read once.”

Ray wrapped his feet around the legs of his stool to keep from fidgeting with them.  Maybe it was dumb to be bothered by the word _masochist_ —that was the right word for someone who got off on pain—but he just didn’t like it when Fraser labeled himself like that.

“You don’t do that, though,” he said slowly, thinking about it.  “Do you?  I mean, you. . .you say what you want sometimes, but that’s not the same as controlling.”  In fact, he felt like Fraser was a hell of a lot _less_ controlling in the bedroom than he was anywhere else.

“I try not to,” Fraser said.  “I’m not sure I always succeed, but I don’t do it on purpose and if I realize that’s what I’m doing, I stop.  Either stop doing it or stop the scene entirely.  It’s. . .sometimes the sub has to take care of the top.”

 _Anything, Ray_.  Ray shivered, remembering the belt pressed against Fraser’s ass, the silence of Fraser not asking.  He squeezed Fraser’s hand again as he nodded.

“So, but. . .do you like the _Kobayashi Maru_ thing, then? Or. . .not?”  Fraser hadn't seemed like he was having fun last night when he thought he might fail to follow Ray's order; that had looked like panic.  But maybe fear was part of the turn-on?

“Well, it is a way for me to understand my partner, as well.” Fraser hesitated.  “Actually, I was a little worried, just for a few seconds, last night, because I wasn't at all sure that I hadn't disappointed you in some way.  Until you said it was all right, that you didn't realize you were making things difficult for me.”  He smiled at Ray.  “Then I remembered something important.”

“Yeah?” Ray smiled back, trying to send nothing-to-worry-about-here vibes.  “What's that?”

“That I trust you.”

He said it so sincerely, like there wasn't any doubt about it at all.  Like there had never been a time when their whole fucking partnership had almost smashed to pieces because Ray couldn't get Fraser to trust him on _anything_.  But that was a couple of months and a million years ago, before the world turned upside-down.  Now Fraser trusted him with more than Ray could ever have imagined.

“You _can't_ disappoint me like that, you know,” Ray said, once the tightness in his throat eased up some.  “I mean, not for real disappoint me.  And not for pretend, either, because you don't want me to do that to you, so I'm not going to.”   

“I know, Ray.” Fraser squeezed Ray’s hand. “And it's all so different with you.”

“What’s so different about me?” Ray was trying to make it sound like a joke, but it came out kind of defensive. What he really wanted to ask was, _What do you see in me? What makes you love me?_ But that was one of those things you just didn’t ask, not to mention being incredibly pathetic.

“Well, firstly, you’re doing it primarily to benefit me,” Fraser said practically.

Ray nodded, trying to keep his expression neutral.  That was exactly what he hadn't wanted to say out loud before: _You can't disappoint me by not obeying my orders, because I don't give a damn about that myself.  I'm just doing it to turn_ you _on._   It had to be a sore point with Fraser, but he wouldn’t want Ray to lie about it, either.

But maybe that wasn’t the point on Fraser’s mind right now, because he didn’t seem bothered by it as he continued, earnestly, “And then, being with you, like this. . . because you're new to it, it's like seeing it for the first time again, only with a committed partner.”

“And that makes it look different?”

“Indeed.  Like when I first started and everything was new to me.  Now it's new to you.”  Fraser frowned a little.  “Not that you chose it quite the way I did, but it's still a discovery.”

“That's for sure.”  Ray smiled ruefully.  “But. . .it's a discovery for you, too?  Even though you already know—I mean, I don't know how much of this you've done, exactly, but you seem like you know pretty well what you like and what you don't.”

“In general terms, yes,” Fraser agreed.  “But in the context of a committed relationship, it's different.  In the context of being in love, it's different.  When I said I was, just for a short moment, worried that I'd disappointed you?”

“Yeah?”

“It was. . . _more_ than it would've been before.  Before, I didn't want to do anything wrong because. . .well, I don't really like to be sub-par at anything.  But it was always rather abstract. Now I don't want to do anything wrong because I don't want you to be disappointed by something I've done.  Or failed to do.”

“That—yeah, I get that."  Ray sure as hell knew that feeling. “It sucks to screw up, but it's way worse to—to fail someone you love.”

Fraser stroked the back of Ray's hand.  

“I think most of us have been in that position and it does, indeed, suck.  But this. . .it's new for you but you do it so well, so it's like. . .It's like if we were to go to the Territories and I got to see all of it again, through your eyes.”

Ray was tempted to say, _We should do that,_ but he couldn't shake the worry that maybe if Fraser went to Canada, with or without Ray, he'd never come back.  Which was a round of world-turning-upside-down Ray was not prepared to think about, especially not on a happy Saturday morning he didn't need ruined.

So instead, he smiled and said, “Well, I hope you like what you're seeing so far.”

“I am indeed,” Fraser said, returning Ray's smile.  “You have a natural talent for this.  Which is not empty flattery to butter your muffin.”

“Nah, you’re flattering me so I’ll put out for you, that’s totally different.”  Ray grinned broadly, although the compliment made him feel kind of squirmy, and not just in that happy-embarrassment way that praise always got to him, either. “I’m on to your tricks, you know.”

Fraser put on an innocent look.

“Did the way I came last night seem insincere to you in some manner, Ray? You can always try again for the same result.”

Ray shivered at the memory of how turned-on Fraser had been last night, and how much of a turn-on that had been.

“I, uh—” He cleared his throat, trying to keep up the joking tone. “I might just do that. Or, you know, I might _surprise_ you.”

“You do that already, Ray. On a daily basis. From the start.”

“You, too, you know,” said Ray seriously, putting his hand on Fraser’s shoulder. “I never could have dreamed you up. Or—”

Fraser laid his hand on top of Ray’s.

“Or?”

“Dreamed you’d want me,” Ray mumbled.

“I don’t think I could’ve dreamt you up or that I’d want you the way I do, either,” Fraser said. “Or that you’d want me the same way.”

“Well, I do,” said Ray, and suddenly that seemed like such a great thing that he just couldn’t sit still. He got up and hugged Fraser from behind again, resting his chin on Fraser’s head. “I want you in a whole lot of ways. Ways I haven’t even thought of yet.”

“Any ways you _have_ thought of yet?” Fraser asked playfully.

That threw Ray for a second, because fair enough, Fraser didn’t want this to always be about him saying what he wanted and Ray giving it to him, but where the hell was Ray supposed to come up with this stuff? Fraser was the one who knew what he was doing, and Fraser was the one who actually wanted it.

But Ray didn’t want to break the mood, and he’d kind of set himself up for the question. . .and then a thought that had been percolating in the back of his head popped forward, and he realized that maybe he _did_ have an idea, after all.

“Well. . .since you ask, I was kind of wondering last night. . .”

Fraser leaned back against him.

“Yes, Ray?”

“You seemed like you really liked what I was doing with the belt. Especially when you had it in your mouth.” Ray touched Fraser’s lower lip with his fingertip.

“Mm-hm,” Fraser hummed against Ray’s finger.

“And I remember you said, before, that you liked being gagged?”

“Mm-hm,” Fraser agreed more emphatically.

“And you like being held down.” Ray ran both hands down Fraser’s arms to grip his wrists lightly. “So I wondered if maybe that means you also like being tied down? Tied up?”

“Very much so, yes,” Fraser said.

“You want me to do that to you?”

“More than you can possibly imagine.” Fraser said it calmly, but the conviction in his voice made Ray’s cock twitch.

He kissed the top of Fraser’s head.

“Because we could do that,” he offered. “Although probably not with a belt. Hard to actually tie someone up with that.”

“All I need is a hardware store and an able helper,” Fraser said.

“Uh. . .helper?”

“Well, I suppose you can stand around and look handsome while I rig the bed up for bondage, but it might go faster if you at least hand me things.”

 _Jesus._ Ray reminded himself that he’d pretty much expected Fraser to have done this before and know how to do it. And that Ray had been the one who’d suggested it.

“You uh, you sound like you’ve got a pretty specific idea in mind.”

“Nothing too specific. But in the absence of a footboard or other appreciable superstructure on the bed, I will have to get creative. Fortunately, this is a problem that I have the skills to address.”

“Uh. . .right. As long as you’re getting all psyched up to play Mr. Fixit, you want to help me figure out why the shower’s been draining so slow, too?” Ray gave Fraser a squeeze, not letting go of his wrists.

“Everyone on this floor is experiencing slow drainage. Charmain has been apprised of the problem.”

Ray grinned into Fraser’s hair. For not officially living in the building, Fraser still somehow talked to Ray’s landlady more than Ray himself did.

“You’re going to have to tell me how this works, though. The tying up part, I mean. I can’t really just wing it.”

“Of course,” Fraser said. “To start with, we should probably figure out what kind of gear to buy.”

“Um. Are you thinking hardware-store-type gear, or, like, special-gear gear?” asked Ray.

“Well, the kind of rope, in the hardware store,” Fraser said. “I suppose we could get something fancier at a specialty shop.”

Ray shrugged as he sat back down. “You’re the one getting tied up with it. Seems like it should be your call.” He took a swallow of coffee.

“Not entirely,” Fraser said, looking up at Ray playfully.  “After all, there are aesthetic concerns.”

Ray gave him a confused frown.

“Which would you like to see on me?”  Fraser asked with a saucy smile, tilting his head at Ray like some kind of junior high flirt.  “Sturdy natural rope? Perhaps black, for greater contrast with my skin?”

“I, uh, I hadn’t really thought about that.”

Fraser obviously wanted Ray to have an opinion—to be turned on by imagining Fraser tied to. . .to whatever he was planning to do to Ray’s bed so that Ray _could_ tie him to it.  But Ray didn’t know what to do with that. He hadn’t been thinking about the look of it.  He hadn’t been thinking about the details at all; he’d just been excited to come up with something Fraser would like that he could honestly offer without feeling uncomfortable about it.

But before he could figure out how to explain any of that, or how to join the game Fraser was playing, Fraser dropped the flirtiness and went on matter-of-factly:

“Of course, there are more practical concerns, as well. The material used for the restraints could have a significant impact on the amount of pain I would experience; if you choose something rough, you'd be giving me more pain.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” said Ray automatically, but of course, that was exactly why Fraser was asking.  And what a fucking weird situation, that Fraser was the one asking _Ray_ to judge how much it was okay for _Fraser_ to get hurt.  “I mean. . .that’s not the point of the rope, is it?”

“Not its primary purpose,” Fraser agreed.  “But it is something we should discuss.”

Ray nodded, rolling his thumb over the metal beads of his bracelet.  

“Is that something you want, Ben? For it to hurt some? Would that make it better for you?”

“Not if you didn’t intend for it to be that way,” Fraser said, looking serious.  “Which is why it’s important that we discuss this now.  Perhaps you haven’t thought of this, but if I wanted to, I could arrange things, choose materials or positions for example, that would give me more pain than you wanted to give me, or were even aware I was feeling.”

The thought made Ray’s stomach knot.

“But you wouldn’t, would you?”

“Of course not, Ray,” Fraser said.  “I would never do that to you.”

Ray let out a breath.  

“I didn’t think so.  I just—I can’t—I can deal with hurting you if I know I’ve got it under control.  But I need to know that.”

“Exactly so,” Fraser said.  “And it would be unethical of me to take advantage of your relative inexperience to manipulate you like that.”  

Ray briefly wondered if Fraser had manipulated other people that way.  But no: it would be wrong to pull that kind of trick on anybody, experienced or not, and Fraser didn’t do unethical.

“Okay,” he said.  “I trust you to—to take care of me.  And. . .thanks for pointing it out.”

“No problem,” Fraser said.  “We are in this together, after all.”

“But listen, do you want. . . ?” Ray rubbed the back of his neck. “I mean, I know you said it’s not the _primary_ purpose, but. . .if you want to use ropes that’ll hurt a little. . .I think I’d be okay with that.”

Fraser suddenly went all tense.  

“You'd be okay with that,” he said flatly.  

“I—I mean, obviously if you don't want that we won't do it,” Ray stammered hastily, wondering what the hell he’d said wrong. He was almost positive that Fraser _did_ want it, and even if he’d guessed wrong, he’d figured Fraser would just say _No thanks._ Unless maybe Fraser was getting twitchy because he thought _Ray_ particularly wanted. . . ?  “You know I’m never going to ask to hurt you if you don't want me to.  I just thought maybe you—you'd like it.”

“I don’t want to hurt myself while pretending that you’re doing it to me, Ray,” Fraser said.  “It. . .if I wanted that fantasy, I could’ve been creating it for myself from the first time we made love.”

Ray wasn’t sure what to say to that.  He felt like apologizing, he wasn’t even sure for what. Having taken so long to ask Fraser what he needed. Not being what he needed in the first place. Not being able to—to thrash him with a leather belt, or even understand why that was something Fraser wanted. And he knew Fraser wasn’t saying this stuff to hurt him. It felt more like a warning, but he wasn’t sure why Fraser thought he needed warning about _that_.

“I’m glad you don’t want that,” he said, which was totally lame, but hopefully Fraser would get just how much Ray meant it. “I don't want you to have to pretend with me, either.  Especially not about this.”

Fraser smiled at him, but it was like just his mouth was doing the smile while inside, he was still frowning.

“Do you remember, before, when I first told you what I like and you didn't think you could give it to me?” he asked. At least he didn’t sound like he was looking for a fight.  “And then you at least tried to get a little more rough with me?  And I, well, I pushed you away?”

Ray nodded. He had no idea why Fraser was suddenly bringing this up, but usually when he sounded like he was coming out of left field, he was actually trying to make an important point.

“What you offered was tempting, Ray,” Fraser went on.  “It was hard to pull away from it. But I didn't want to have to create most of what I wanted in my own mind. I wanted to be there with you, not off in some fantasy.”

Well, that actually explained a lot about the mixed signals Fraser had been giving Ray back then, which had confused the hell out of him at the time.  He remembered a couple of times when he’d tried to treat Fraser rough and Fraser had gotten really into it but then just shut down, repeating Ray’s name over and over, like he was reminding himself who he was in bed with. Maybe that was exactly what he’d been doing. _This is Ray, and Ray doesn’t do those things, no matter how much I wish he would._

Ray still wasn’t totally sure where Fraser was going with this, but Fraser was looking at him expectantly, so he figured he’d better take a stab at saying something.

“I get why you didn't want to pretend we were doing something we weren't. And I knew I wasn't. . .giving you what you really wanted.”  He sighed.  “I’m sorry.  Why didn’t you just tell me to knock it off, then? If you didn’t. . .want me to do that?”

“I don’t really know,” Fraser admitted.  “I was afraid of confrontation, I suppose.  I already felt that the status quo had been upset enough; I didn’t want to make it worse by trying to tell you all these things about me that I wasn’t even sure you wanted to know.”

“I know how that feels,” said Ray.  “Sometimes I think I spent half my marriage keeping my mouth shut and pretending to be something I wasn’t, and the other half spilling my guts. And whichever one I did, it was wrong.  But listen, I do want to know.  I want to know you, Ben.” He leaned in and kissed Fraser softly, then captured one of Fraser’s wrists with both hands. “And right now, I want to know how you really feel about ropes.  Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to tie me to your bed,” Fraser said.  “I want you to gag me and do anything you want to.  I want to be stretched out in front of you.  I want to give myself to you.”

Which still didn’t answer the question Ray was really asking, as he was sure Fraser knew damn well.

“And. . .?” He tightened his grip on Fraser’s wrist.

“Whatever you want.”

 _Whatever I want, right._ Ray fought the impulse to either laugh at Fraser or yell at him.  Why did he have to make it so damn hard for Ray to offer to do something nice ( _nice, ha!_ ) for him? He got that Fraser was bending over backwards not to make Ray feel like he had to do anything that might make him uncomfortable, but damn it, Ray wasn’t the one who wanted. . . _Hm._

“Whatever I want, huh?” He released Fraser’s wrist and lounged back against the counter.

“Anything, Ray,” Fraser promised.

“Well, what I want is for you to pick out the damn rope, all right?” Ray gave Fraser a challenging look. “Pick one that’ll. . .make you feel good.”

Fraser threw him an equally challenging look right back.  

“I think,” he said, “I want something natural. Without much give.”

Ray burst out laughing, partly from surprise and relief, but mostly because it was really fucking hilarious that he’d made Fraser get ready to knock him out of the ring over exactly how Ray was going to tie Fraser up and have his way with him.

Fraser looked kind of affronted, but Ray pushed off the counter, still grinning, and slid his arms around Fraser’s waist, pulling him to the edge of his stool.

“I’m serious,” he said, swaying his hips a little as he looked Fraser in the face. “That’s what you bring home, that’s what we’ll use. You show me how to tie it right and we’ll be in business.”

“Ah. I’ll be doing my own shopping, then?” Fraser asked as he wrapped his arms around Ray’s waist in return.

“That’s one of those trick questions, isn’t it?” asked Ray, because, yeah, it totally was. And really, there was nothing weird or embarrassing about going to a hardware store to buy rope, never mind what they were going to use it for. “I can come along. You’ll need a lift, anyway; don’t want to have to schlep anything bulky on the bus.”

“Co-conspirators,” Fraser said, smiling hesitantly.

Ray had a sudden flash of memory him and Stella at nineteen, clutching each other’s hands and trying to look cool and casual as they wandered through the sex shop. Ducking their heads down behind the shelves to gape and giggle and dare each other to buy things. Walking up to the counter hand-in-hand, pretending like it was no big deal as Stella laid down the pack of flavored condoms and Ray fumbled the bills out of his wallet. Those flavored condoms had turned out to be a stupid idea, but buying them together had felt naughty and daring and, yeah, like an adventure they were having together. Which had been the whole point, really.

He pulled Fraser in for a long kiss.

“You bet. So what’ll it be: Lowe’s or Home Depot?”

 

 

                           *                                  *                                  *

 

 

Leaning against the mattress, which was leaning against the wall, Ray looked down at Fraser, who was crouched on the floor, twisting lengths of rope into a complicated kind of cat’s cradle thing. His arms were bare; he’d rolled up his sleeves and taken off his watch before they started wrestling the mattress around. Ray always loved watching Fraser work with his hands: the way they moved, strong and precise and confident, never hesitating and never screwing up. Like now, just a quick flick of Fraser’s fingers, and the rope just went wherever he needed it to be.

“This should provide a secure underbed framework,” Fraser said. “I did consider using something other than just rope, but nothing seemed quite right and, in any case, joining materials might have created weak spots.” He sounded totally practical and business-like, like he was putting up bookshelves instead of rigging up Ray’s bed for kinky sex.

Ray wasn’t sure what to make of that. Because, now that he thought about it, he realized he’d expected doing the shopping and set-up to put Fraser in that shy, turned-on mood like when he talked about what he liked to do in bed. Ray had even maybe been kind of looking forward to seeing that.

But Fraser had been all business in the hardware store, too, calmly chatting with the flirty salesgirl about the pros and cons of sisal rope versus manila for his unnamed _home improvement project_. Nothing like Ray and Stella snickering over dildoes. No trace of embarrassment or self-consciousness; no knowing looks at Ray, and certainly none of the flirtiness from this morning. If he had been thinking about anything other than technical details when he was comparing packages of rope—if he had been imagining how the rope would feel against his wrists, how it would look, what he wanted Ray to do with it—Ray sure couldn’t have told by looking at him.

It was Ray who had felt awkward and jumpy, trailing after Fraser past shelves of screwdrivers and elbow joints with his hands stuffed in his pockets to keep from fidgeting, like a teenager pretending he wasn’t shoplifting. Which was dumb, because it wasn’t like anyone could tell what they were buying the rope for, and anyway, Ray wasn’t ashamed of it. On the other hand, he also wasn’t really used to the idea of tying up his lover, and he certainly wasn’t about to broadcast it to the world. Hell, he and Fraser still hadn’t announced to the world that they were _dating_ , yet. . .although they were going to have to do something about that one of these days.

As he watched Fraser’s capable fingers lay out one knot after another, Ray found himself fidgeting with his bracelet, rolling it up and down his wrist, and wondering—again—what it said about them that the most romantic present he’d given Fraser was a couple of coils of rope. He wondered if Fraser would like it if Ray got him. . .well, Fraser wasn’t really the jewelry-wearing type, and obviously there were regulations when he was in uniform, but. . .but maybe something he could wear under his clothes, like a bracelet or a chain. . . The memory suddenly hit him: waiting for Fraser to finish his puttering down at the other end of the rope aisle, fidgeting with his bracelet as he stared at those great big spools of chain. Shiny chain in various gauges, cold on his skin when he slid his fingers under the links, cold and gleaming and heavy and hard against bare skin and—no. That was just wrong, and creepy, and. . .wrong.

“That ought to do the trick.” Fraser’s satisfied voice startled Ray out of his thoughts.

“Looks good,” said Ray, feeling like an idiot for standing there creeping himself out for no reason.

“There are purpose-made kits for this,” Fraser added as he gave each knot a final tug. “But they start at twenty-five dollars, and I'm not sure of the quality of workmanship.”

Ray tried not to wonder about Fraser getting tied down to some _other_ bed, by someone whose bed already had ropes on it. He watched Fraser carefully center his rope masterpiece onto the underside of the mattress. It looked like something you’d see in a modern art museum, or maybe in Amish country.

“Could you take the head?” Fraser asked, positioning himself at the foot of the bed. “Just use the rope to lift, so it stays in place, and we’ll drop it right back on the box spring.”

Together, they maneuvered the mattress back into place. When they were done, the bed looked just like normal. The bottom sheet wasn’t even mussed. But from each corner, a length of rope trailed out from between the mattress and box spring. More than enough to restrain a grown man.

Ray picked up one of the rope-ends and gave it an experimental tug. It felt damn solid.

“Huh. Doesn’t look like much. You could almost. . .well, not miss it, but. . .”

It hit him again that this was a strangely permanent setup. Not just something you pull out for fun and then put away again. Which he’d known—hell, with all that talk about hardware stores and rigging, he’d been expecting full-blown carpentry. But still. It seemed awfully concrete, all of a sudden. Weirdly domestic, too, like getting a toaster oven or a bigger bed or new towels because you had someone staying over regular, someone who was becoming part of your life.

“Compact, and gets the job done,” said Fraser, dusting his hands and rolling his sleeves back down.

Ray rubbed the rope between his fingers. The fibers were only a little scratchy, but he knew it would feel a hell of a lot rougher scraped against skin with any force. He’d originally been imagining something ridiculous out of the movies, big, thick cables you couldn’t really tie someone up with, but this seemed awfully thin. It could really cut into a person’s skin if they were tied up tightly, or struggled too hard.

This was what Fraser wanted, though, he reminded himself. He had to trust Fraser to know how much he could take, and to tell Ray how to keep it inside that limit.

“So. Um,” he started, wondering what on Earth they were supposed to do now.

The obvious thing would be to christen the newly-outfitted bed, but he wasn’t feeling particularly sexy right this second. Partly that was because Fraser was still acting like this really was just a home improvement project like fixing the counterweights on the windows; no sexy-vibes from that corner at all. And partly it was because, now that he was looking at the actual ropes on the actual bed, he realized that he hadn’t really thought about the practical aspects of this whole thing. He knew how to tie someone up, all right, if the goal was just to immobilize him. But this was a different ballgame.

“Okay, so. . .” Ray tried again.  “You’re going to have to show me how to. . .use this right.  I mean, it’s not like I don’t know how to tie a knot, but. . .you know what I mean.  It’s different.”

“Right you are,” Fraser agreed.  “Maybe I can give you a practical demonstration after dinner.”

Well, that sounded like he wasn’t in any big rush to get to the main event.  Which was fine, except he’d seemed so excited about the idea when Ray first brought it up, so why was he being lukewarm about it now?

“So, just the five Ps for tonight, then?” Ray asked. Fraser smiled at his phrasing.

“Yes. All this shopping and logistics and planning. . .”  Fraser gestured toward the bed.  “Well, it didn’t really put me in a romantic mood, I’m afraid.”

Ray chuckled, relieved.  So it really was just that Fraser had gotten all focused on the practical stuff and not that he was having second thoughts for some mysterious reason.

“Fair enough,” Ray said.  “Plus, I should probably do some planning of my own, anyway.”

Fraser gave him a thoughtful look at that, but all he said was, “I believe I mentioned dinner. . .”  

“You got it, buddy.”  Ray clapped him on the shoulder with a smile.  “So what’ll it be: pizza or Chinese?”

 

 

                                  *                                  *                                  *

 

 

Dinner eaten, leftovers stowed, Fraser and Ray cuddled up on the couch. 

“I appreciate your going with me to the hardware store,” Fraser said, then added, with a hint of laughter in his voice, “And assisting with our home decorating project.”

Ray laughed out loud.  

“Anytime.  Although you didn't really need _my_ help, did you?  I bet any of those cute little Home Depot chickies would have totally volunteered to help you _home decorate_ if you asked.”

“They did seem rather more helpful than I would have expected,” Fraser agreed thoughtfully. Then he gave Ray a totally wicked, un-Fraserish grin.  “They probably would've scattered pretty quickly if they'd known the precise nature of our project.”

Ray had a sudden, unnerving image of that sassy blonde clerk—she couldn't have been more than twenty-three years old and five foot three—bound and gagged and looking up at him. . . He got that out of his mind as quick as he could. _Nothing to freak out about here, just a joke._  

To cover his discomfort, he pulled Fraser over for a kiss.  The feel of Fraser's familiar lips on his, Fraser's body solid in his arms, steadied him out.

“None of their business,” he murmured.  “Nobody invited them anyway.”

“Indeed,” Fraser said, kissing him again.  “It's strictly a two-person project.  Just us.”  

The next kiss was longer and deeper, with a little teasing from Fraser’s tongue. Ray groaned softly.  Maybe Fraser had spent all day thinking about knots and load-bearing structures, but Ray had had sex on the brain and his body was all wound up in anticipation, and Fraser's kisses were turning him on something fierce.  And Fraser didn't seem so lukewarm any more either.  Maybe he'd changed his mind about waiting until later?

Ray leaned back against the couch, pulling Fraser into his arms and stroking his hair.

“So, but what about the actual, you know, practical part?  Where you show me how to. . .well, you know?”

Fraser leaned into Ray's hand to get more pressure.  

“Personally, I think I've put enough thought and effort into that particular project today.”  He stretched up to nuzzle Ray's jaw.  “And that's all so. . .practical, Ray,” he said, as he moved on to Ray's earlobe.  “We've had a busy day.” He brushed a tantalizing kiss over Ray’s lips.  “And we had a nice dinner.” His tongue flickered into Ray's mouth. “So maybe we could be a little less. . .practical right now?”  

He must've meant that as a whatsits question, because he was kissing Ray much too thoroughly to let him actually answer with words. With a happy sigh, Ray let Fraser press him back further into the couch.  He ran his palms over Fraser’s chest, feeling his body heat radiating through his soft cotton shirt.  Fraser’s tongue moved back to play with Ray’s ear some more, which made it hard for him to think clearly.

“Mm. . .I can do unpractical.”

Fraser must have been almost as turned on as Ray was, because he didn’t even pause to give Ray grief about using a nonexistent word like _unpractical._

The kissing was getting hotter, and Ray was getting more horizontal, with Fraser half on top of him, and it was all so sweet and easy that he was tempted to just lay back and let it happen to him. But no, that wasn’t fair to Fraser, who was, after all, actually asking for something, here.

So he gave Fraser’s hair a tug—nothing rough, just enough to get him to lift his mouth off Ray’s for a second.

“I know we’re not. . .ready for the. . .the feature film, here,” he said breathlessly. “But there’s other ways you can be good for me while we’re waiting, huh?”

“Hmm?” Fraser met Ray’s eyes with a puzzled expression, his pupils wide, his face flushed,.

“You.” Ray touched Fraser’s lips briefly with a fingertip. “You want to be good for me? Now?”

Fraser melted against him.

“Of course,” he said. “Always want to be good for you, Ray.” Ray thought he maybe heard a little extra emphasis on _you._

He hugged Fraser tight, arching his hips up against him. When he felt the lump of Fraser’s hard-on, he groaned and his own cock got harder in response.

“Want _you,_ ” he whispered fiercely. “Always. All the _time._ ”

“The same.” Fraser’s voice was somewhere between a whisper and a moan. “I want you, want to show you how much I love you. Because I do. I love you so much, Ray, and not just because of this.” He thrust his hips against Ray.

Ray arched and groaned again, torn between lust and tenderness and the need to not totally lose track of what he was doing. He got a leg over Fraser’s to hold him still, got his hand on Fraser’s face and kissed him softly.

“I hear you. And I love you, too,” he told Fraser, looking into his eyes.

Then he took Fraser’s face in both his hands. He closed his eyes, took a breath, shifted gears inside his head, and opened his eyes again.

“Show me,” he said, still quietly, but with all the gentleness gone from his voice. “Show me now.” And he twisted his body sharply, rolling Fraser onto the floor. “On your knees.”

Fraser landed gracefully on his knees at Ray’s feet, laid one hand on each of Ray’s splayed knees, and looked up at him, suddenly watchful.

Ray smiled down at him, showing teeth. He had no plan at all, here, but hey, one step at a time. He unbuttoned his fly, then pulled his dick free of his underwear—not actually the most comfortable position, but it’d do, and what he really cared about was how it looked.

“You want this, don’t you?” he asked, a little threatening, a little mocking. “You can’t wait to have it in your mouth.”

“I do,” Fraser said. “I. . .need it. So much.”

“Yeah, I bet you do.” Ray gave himself a stroke, keeping his eyes on Fraser’s face. “You’re dying to touch, I bet you’re wet just thinking about it, but you won’t, not until I say you can. Because you’re such a—because you’re so _obedient_ , you always do what you’re told, right?”

“I try,” Fraser said seriously. “I try so hard. I want to be so good for you, Ray.” He licked his lips; Ray was pretty sure he wasn’t doing it consciously.

“What’s with all this _try_? I don’t want you to try. I want you to _be_ good.” Ray stroked himself a couple more times, until his cock started leaking a little.

“Show me how good you can be,” he whispered, and slid his hips forward until the tip of his cock brushed against Fraser’s lips.

“Please,” Fraser said, the word almost, but not quite, a kiss. Ray shivered. Fraser shifted on his knees—easing the pressure in his jeans, Ray recognized with a smirk.

“Hands flat on your thighs,” Ray murmured. “You don’t get to touch yourself, either. That’s for me.”

Fraser took his hands off Ray’s knees and placed them on his thighs as directed.

“May I?” he whispered against Ray’s cock.

“Hmm. . .” Ray pulled back just a little, just enough so he could bend his legs without shoving his cock into Fraser’s mouth. He ran one bare foot up the inside of Fraser’s thigh.

“I don’t know. You did ask real nice. But I’m not sure if you really deserve it.”

He shifted his hips forward, letting his cock slide over Fraser’s lips and across one cheek. He couldn’t keep back a hiss of pleasure; he hoped the teasing was working on Fraser, because it was sure getting _Ray_ worked up.

“I’m sure I don’t,” Fraser gasped. “But I want to. I. . .” His voice trailed off as he looked up at Ray with that desperate, turned-on expression Ray loved to see.

“You want my dick in your mouth?” Ray leaned in a little, fixing Fraser’s eyes with his own.

“God, yes,” Fraser said fervently. “More than anything.”

Ray grasped the back of Fraser’s head with one hand, while the other held his cock just shy of Fraser’s mouth.

“You want to suck my cock?”

“Please,” Fraser said. “Please let me suck your cock.”

“Ooh. . . There’s some magic words.” Fraser’s whole. . . _groveling_ , that was the word. . .the groveling thing was actually kind of creeping Ray out, but he was sure as hell not going to spoil the game by letting that show. He cocked his head to one side, then smiled. “All right. Since you ask so nice. And since you’ve been so patient and good.”

He pulled Fraser’s head towards him, pushing forward a little with his hips at the same time, so that his cock slid into Fraser’s eager mouth.

Fraser went all the way down right away, like he was starved for the taste Ray’s cock. Ray moaned as the wet heat engulfed him, his fingers tightening in Fraser’s hair, his free hand clutching at the couch. He struggled to keep from thrusting before he remembered that was okay here in upside-down-world, and let himself go. Fraser took him enthusiastically, sucking and licking and pretty much driving Ray out of his mind.

“Ohhh. . .yeah. . .that’s so good. . .” Ray’s words were disappearing fast, but he tried to get the important ones out amongst whatever nonsense and random noises of pleasure were coming out of his mouth. “You’re so good—oh, yes, fuck, more—good job, you’re— _Ben_ — _oh. . .”_ He bucked up off the couch as the orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, sucked him under, wipe-out.

Fraser swallowed greedily, then kept sucking gently, pulling back just before Ray got too sensitive to take any more. As Ray slumped back against the couch, panting, he saw Fraser sit back into his original position, hands still flat on his thighs.

“Wait,” Ray whispered. “I just—I need a minute—wait for me.”

“Of course, Ray,” Fraser said submissively.

Ray let himself melt into the couch with his eyes closed, while he rode the aftershocks and his breathing gradually slowed down. When he was able to collect his thoughts a little and think about moving again, he looked down at Fraser, who was still kneeling patiently at his feet. He was gazing up at Ray with a mix of adoration, pleading and something Ray didn’t have words for.

Silently, Ray slid off the couch to straddle Fraser’s knees. He fondled Fraser’s erection through his pants.

“You save this for me, huh?” It came out more gentle than he meant, more like affectionate teasing than anything else. But he just couldn’t keep up the mean act, not when he was this mellowed-out.

“Only you, Ray,” Fraser agreed. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs.

“That’s real good. I like that.”

Ray unfastened Fraser’s jeans and got his hand inside, but the angle was a bitch. So he shifted around to hug Fraser from behind, which let him slide his hand around Fraser’s cock like he was jerking himself off. Fraser gasped, pushing into Ray’s hand.

“Is it. . .can I. . .please. . .” Fraser’s voice was broken, his words barely understandable.

“You’ve been so good, waiting for me,” Ray murmured, stroking him steadily. “You can come now, it’s okay. I want to see you come.”

Fraser twisted his head against Ray’s shoulder, giving him the best view he could.

“Ray,” he called out desperately. His face contorted as he came, spilling over Ray’s hand, onto the floor.

“Right here, I’m right here,” Ray murmured, which maybe didn’t fit with the bossy act either, but Fraser seemed so vulnerable that Ray couldn’t help wanting to protect and comfort him.

“Thank you, Ray,” Fraser said, his voice calmer, though not by much. “Thank you _so much_.”

Ray didn’t know how to feel about that. It was weird and kind of uncomfortable to be thanked for making love to someone, like it was a present instead of something shared. But it made him feel warm and happy, too, to hear in Fraser’s voice how much this meant to him, how happy Ray had made him.

On the other hand, maybe that was part of the uncomfortable, too, because liking to hear that neediness from Fraser as much as Ray did like it. . .he wasn’t sure that made him such a great person.

All of which was too confusing to think about, especially right after sex. So Ray just held Fraser close and rocked him a little and told him, “You did good, Ben. And now I’m telling you we’re done.”


	2. Act II

Ray really hoped that someday it was at least going to get easier to get sex started. Because after all that rope-buying and bed-rigging and knot-tying lessons with extra safety tips, what they hadn’t done was have the actual sex. Or make any plans about when they were going to have it.

To be fair, that wasn’t _entirely_ Fraser’s fault. He’d spent Monday and Tuesday nights at the Consulate because they’d had some kind of jamboree to entertain visiting bigwigs. Then Wednesday, he’d showed Ray how to tie the knots, but he’d treated that just as un-sexily as the other setup stuff, like he was teaching some random training course. Maybe because he didn’t want to freak Ray out, or maybe just because he was in practical mode again, Ray couldn’t tell which. Thursday had been kind of awkward, with Ray wondering who was going to make the first move and whether it was a good idea to try something so elaborate on a worknight anyway, and Fraser acting like he’d never even heard of sex. And then Friday they’d ended up pulling a double shift and falling into bed too exhausted to do anything but grunt affectionately at each other and conk out.

It wasn’t like he wanted to schedule sex in advance: _Let’s synchronize our calendars, how’s Monday at 8:35 work for you?_ He was absolutely in favor of spontaneity and seduction. But what with one thing and another, his bed had been set up for bondage for a week and the ball was right back in his court, with no sign of encouragement from Fraser.

So, fine, Ray could take the lead, it was just, his normal seduction moves didn’t really apply in this situation, so what the hell was he supposed to say? _Hey buddy, how about I tie you up and fuck you now?_

“Listen, um. . .” He leaned against the counter, watching Fraser wash the last of the dinner dishes. “Were you thinking. . .I mean, we never quite settled when we were going to, um, take the home decorating project for a test-drive.”

“Do you feel confident about tying the knots?” Fraser asked as started putting stuff away.

“Yeah, that should be okay. I mean, it’s not the tying part, anyway, so much as making sure I get the tightness right.” Ray was surprised he could talk about this so casually, but then again, it was no weirder than half the conversations they had on the job.

“And what do you do if there’s an emergency?” Fraser was in full-on schoolmarm mode.

“Scissors on the nightstand,” replied Ray dutifully.

With a smile, Fraser put the last plate away.

“I have a have a set of jingle bells,” he said. “In the bedroom. If I need you to stop, I’ll drop them.”

“Oh, uh, yeah, all right.” They hadn’t talked about what to use as a safe-non-word yet, but apparently Fraser had all this stuff figured out beforehand. Well, of course, he’d done it before. Jingle bells were probably standard equipment or something. “Does that mean you want to do it tonight? I mean, because we totally can, I just wasn’t sure. . .”

Fraser shrugged.

“If you like. The element of surprise is gone, but that’s probably for the best, really.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, but I don’t see how. . .For the first time, anyway, I don’t want to just spring it on you. It’s kind of. . .logistical and stuff.”

In fact, that was a problem with the whole scenario that Ray hadn’t imagined until he started actually thinking it through: there was all this screwing around with setup and safety measures and whatnot, which was fine but kind of a damper on the mood.

“Again, for the best, really,” said Fraser.

Ray rubbed the back of his neck.

“Yeah, but so. . .” He felt silly, but he was pretty sure it would be fine once they got past the strange awkward part and actually got into bed. “You want to take this into the bedroom, then? Give it a try?”

“I think what we need is probably in there, rather than in here,” Fraser agreed.

“Okay.” Ray hesitated, then said, “Come here, though,” and tugged him in for a kiss. That felt easy and familiar, like Ray had been hoping. Fraser kissed him back enthusiastically and, just for a second, it felt like when they first got together: thrilling and easy and right.

“Come on, let’s do this thing.” With a grin, Ray took Fraser’s hand and led him into the bedroom. From the deliberate little steps Fraser was taking, it seemed like he was holding himself back from hurrying Ray along.

His smile broadening, Ray deliberately shifted into a lazy, sultry saunter. At least, he hoped it was sultry. Fraser’s fingers tightened just a little around his, anyway, so maybe there was a way to ease into the mood, here, after all.

Once they’d cleared the bedroom door, Ray paused to figure out what to do next. There was still some business to take care of before he could let Fraser go off into _subspace_ on him, but maybe it didn’t have to be _all_ business-like. He tugged Fraser over to sit down on the bed, then ran his hand gently through Fraser’s hair as he kissed him again.

“Just have to get the stuff out of the nightstand. And, I guess, your bells or whatever?”

He turned to get out the scissors and lube and lay them out on the nightstand. Fraser picked up a plastic bag from somewhere, pulled out a small bundle of jingle bells, and set them next to the scissors and lube, which made for a bizarre combination.

Then he pulled out a black. . .object. Ray had no idea what it was. It had a buckle next to a small square of. . .was that silicone? Rubber? He had no idea. It couldn’t be a practical joke, that just wasn’t in character for Fraser; but it also wasn’t anything Ray remembered talking about. He blinked at the thing for a second, then looked over at Fraser, trying to seem casually curious instead of boggle-eyed.

“It’s a gag,” Fraser said. He turned it inside-out so that Ray could see that it had a suggestive. . .protrusion, maybe about three inches long.

 _That’s not a gag, that’s a friggin’ alien bio-probe._ He stopped himself from saying it out loud, barely, but what he said instead wasn’t all that much better.

“Where did you get that thing?”

Fraser looked slightly thrown off, but only for a moment.

“A Touch of Romance,” he said. “It was right next to Christmas All Year Long.” He picked up the little bundle of bells. They jiggled slightly in his hand, the only sign that he was in the least bit nervous.

 _That is not romantic. That is not sexy. That is just. . ._ Ray took a breath and got a grip on himself. He was a grown man and also a cop and he’d lived in Chicago his whole life; it wasn’t like he’d never heard of sex toys before. And really, was it all that much weirder to want to be gagged with a plastic thing in your mouth than to want to be gagged in the first place?

“Well,” he said, as casually as he could. “There’s one less thing I need to take care of, then.” He’d figured on using an old t-shirt as a gag, but maybe there was some reason he hadn’t thought of why that would be a dumb idea. Might as well not mention it.

He picked up the. . .gag. . .and turned it over in his hands, trying to figure out how to work it so he wouldn’t look like too much of an idiot.

“The buckle goes next to. . .the mouth so it doesn’t get caught in anyone’s hair,” Fraser offered.

“Right, right, sure,” Ray muttered. It wasn’t too complicated, really, once you knew what it was for. “You, um, you’ve used one before?”

“A similar model was my favorite. Before,” Fraser said.

 _Not the time for stupid questions._ It seemed like Fraser had just bought this gag, which made Ray wonder whether Fraser had owned his own. . .gear, before, and if so, what had happened to it. He wasn’t even totally sure when _before_ was, except before _Ray_ , obviously, but that _totally wasn’t important right now,_ damn it.

Ray laid the gag down on the nightstand, then took the bells out of Fraser’s hand and put them with the rest of the stuff. Then he reached out to cup Fraser’s face in both hands. He kissed him on the forehead, then the tip of the nose, then the mouth, 1, 2, 3, real soft.

Slipping one hand around Fraser’s waist, he used the other to work Fraser’s shirt buttons open. Fraser kind of melted against him, then began returning the favor, starting at the top of Ray’s shirt. As Ray kissed Fraser’s neck and slid the shirt off him, he was thinking ahead to the logistics of getting Fraser onto the bed and. . .all rigged out. It seemed like ideally, the actual tying-up part should be part of the show. But even though Ray was confident he could do it right, he wasn’t sure he could manage to do it gracefully or sexily. And he also wasn’t 100% sure that _was_ what Fraser wanted, either; maybe messing with the ropes was one of the parts where safety mattered more than sexy. But other hand. . .

He got Fraser’s jeans off as he dithered. Fraser pulled Ray’s shirt off, then kissed his exposed chest, slowly making his way down to Ray’s jeans. He paused to look up at Ray, as if asking for permission. Ray hadn’t really had a plan for the getting undressed part, but he figured if they got rid of the clothes now, he wouldn’t have to worry about it later. Plus, it wasn’t like he had a reason to turn down an offer like that. So he gave Fraser a little nod.

Fraser unbuttoned Ray’s jeans, then pulled them off along with his underwear, pausing to admire the view with a heated look that sent a little tickle of arousal through Ray.

 _Ask? Don’t ask?_ he wondered as he leaned down to kiss Fraser. _No, don’t ask: tell._

“Listen,” he said softly, stroking Fraser’s shoulders. “I’m going to need you to make sure I’ve got everything done up right before we start this for real. Okay?”

Fraser suddenly looked attentively up at him.

“Of course,” he said, his tone all practical.

“It’s okay,” Ray said, still running his hands over Fraser’s bare skin. “You can enjoy this part. I want you to. Just. . .don’t go too far, all right? Until I say the words.”

“Of course not,” Fraser said.

“Okay.”

Ray kissed Fraser again, easing him down onto the bed. Fraser laid back, watching and waiting for Ray’s next move.

“Feet up,” Ray murmured. He bent to retrieve the rope-end that dangled from underneath the mattress. “Give me your hand.”

Fraser gave Ray his right hand, with a look of absolute trust on his face.

Ray kissed Fraser’s palm, then the underside of his wrist. Then he tied the rope around Fraser’s wrist, taking his time, making sure not to leave too much slack and to make the loop just like they’d practiced, no tighter and no looser. When he was done, he gave the knot a tug to make sure it would hold. Then he looked over at Fraser.

“All right?”

Fraser tugged at the rope, frowning in concentration. He rotated his wrist slightly and nodded.

“Just fine,” he said.

“Good.” Ray figured it was time to start getting into the _other_ mood, so he shifted into cop-voice and snapped, “Spread ‘em,” as he walked around to the foot of the bed. Fraser complied, stretching his feet towards the corners of the bed.

When he was done with Fraser’s feet and his other hand, Ray looked a question at Fraser, who tugged at the ropes from all directions and nodded. Ray nodded back, then went back to get the bells. He closed Fraser’s fingers around them. Then he picked up the gag. As he hesitated, rubbing his thumbs over the silicone, Fraser looked eagerly up at him.

Ray deliberately ran his tongue across his lower lip, then he leaned over Fraser with a predatory smile.

“Open up,” he said sternly. “Or am I going to have to make you?”

Fraser just kept looking up at Ray. He didn’t open his jaw as he said, “Tell me.”

 _Fuck, tell you what?_ Ray had just been trying to sound threatening, but yeah, okay, Fraser probably thought Ray was offering him a choice or asking for a hint or something. And fine, except now he didn’t know what Fraser’s answer was supposed to mean. Tell him whether to fight back? Order him to open his mouth? Or what?

And fuck, he’d told Fraser to wait for the magic words, and Ray hadn’t said them yet, he’d wanted to make sure the gag was on right first, but now he’d accidentally jump-started the. . . _scene_. . .which he’d better fix, quick. Maybe he should just back off, follow the original plan. . .but Fraser seemed to be signaling he was ready to follow Ray’s lead if Ray wanted him to resist, which had to mean Fraser didn’t think this was a problem. . .or maybe that wasn’t what Fraser was trying to tell him. . .damn it, there was a right answer here and Ray needed it _fast_ , needed to stop spinning his wheels. . .

_Better play it safe. . ._

He slid one hand under Fraser’s neck, his thumb resting along Fraser’s jaw.

It felt kind of goofy to ask permission from someone who’d already let Ray tie him up, but he was pretty sure by now that having the words be the same every time was important for Fraser. And anyway, the point wasn’t really whether Fraser wanted to do this. Ray already knew he did. The point was, that wasn’t the same as giving the go-ahead. It was important to follow the rules.

“You want to be good for me now?” he asked, looking Fraser in the eyes.

Fraser smiled up at him.

“Yes, Ray. Thank you, Ray,” he added before opening his mouth wide.

 _Jesus. Fuck._ Ray jerked his head quickly one way and then the other to crack his neck, hoping his wince hadn’t been visible. _Read that one wrong. He was waiting for you to follow the fucking rules, not. . .Could have screwed that up badly. . .Okay, but you didn’t, so keep going, and pay more attention, so you **don’t** screw up._

“All right, then.” His voice sounded harsher than he’d intended, but that was all right, that worked. He stuck the. . .sticky-out part. . .of the gag into Fraser’s mouth, fumbled the strap around the back of his head and did up the buckle against his cheek. Fraser smiled around the gag; it looked like he was already slipping into his happy subspace.

Ray pushed Fraser’s face aside, then stood back up, clenching and unclenching his fists a couple of times to get rid of the tension.

 _Not really angry,_ he told himself _. Just pretend-angry. Pretend-angry is good._ And he _wasn’t_ actually angry, certainly not at Fraser. Just rattled, and annoyed at himself, but it wasn’t a big deal. Over and done with.

He took a breath, let it out slow, and yeah, that was better.

He looked down at Fraser, trying to remember what he’d thought his plan was, here. The problem was, really, once you had a guy tied down and gagged, what the heck did you _do_ with him? Or to him? It was all well and good for Fraser to say _anything you want,_ but there was a whole list of things that just couldn’t happen. Like, anything involving Fraser’s hands or mouth, just for starters. And Ray didn’t see how Fraser could be ‘good’ in this situation. How was he supposed to tell Fraser to do anything? There wasn’t much Fraser _could_ do.

Well, so, okay, following orders wasn’t really the point here. Was maybe the opposite of the point, in fact.

Because, yeah, Fraser was just lying there, completely motionless, looking up at Ray. As far as Ray could tell, Fraser wasn’t even doing anything with the. . .thing in his mouth. He wasn’t zoned out; his eyes were open and focused intently on Ray’s face. But apart from that and the partial hard-on, Fraser might almost as well have been in a goddamned coma.

Which, fine, okay, this was about Ray running the show with Fraser completely at his mercy. It was about Ray taking what he wanted. Problem was, what Ray actually wanted was not an unresisting body to lie back and take what he dished out; he wanted a partner to have fun with. . .

 _Stop. Hang on a second. You’re coming at this the wrong way._ Ray thought back to when he’d offered to tie Fraser up in the first place, how Fraser had talked like he expected Ray to care about the way the rope looked against his skin. Like that would be part of the fun for Ray, just looking. . .

He was already looking at Fraser, of course, but now he started looking. . .deliberately. Systematically. Like he’d look over a crime scene, or a cool car, or. . .or a beautiful naked body, laid out on his bed, open and exposed, _displayed_ just for him. . .

And Fraser seemed to sense the change in how Ray was looking at him. He arched his back just a little off the mattress, pulling the ropes taut. _Putting on a show,_ Ray realized. _Like with the strip-tease._ He watched Fraser’s thighs flex as he bent his knees as high as he could, which wasn’t very high but was still enough to let Ray see what was on offer. He watched Fraser’s hands—the same hands that had put the rope there in the first place, the hands that had shown Ray exactly how to tie the knots—wrap around the ropes at his wrists and pull, making his biceps bulge a little.

“Well, now, look at that,” Ray said. “Look at what we’ve got here. Isn’t this nice?”

He ran a hand down Fraser’s arm, feeling the contrast between the smooth skin of Fraser’s shoulder and his hairy forearm, the shape of the muscles under the skin, the way they tightened as Fraser stretched his arm up into Ray’s hand.

“And all for me,” Ray added, sliding his hand over Fraser’s chest, stomach and hip to his thigh, then back up again.

Fraser’s body really was something to look at: muscular but not muscle-bound; strong legs and arms, broad shoulders, but somehow soft, too, no sharp angles anywhere, just clean lines and smooth curves. Ray had both hands on Fraser’s ribs, now, just feeling him over. Wherever Ray touched him, Fraser tried to push against Ray’s hands. Ray pressed back in response, going from caresses to something a little harder as his hands kept roaming over Fraser’s body.

“Yeah, you’re all mine,” he murmured. “I can do whatever I want to this gorgeous body and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.”

Fraser made a sound against the gag; Ray couldn’t tell what, if anything, he was trying to say, but it sure sounded happy.

“I can touch you and you can’t stop me. You can’t protect yourself. Can’t hide anything. Can’t keep anything from me.” Ray ran the backs of his fingers up Fraser’s ribs and into his armpits, soft enough to tickle, then dragged his nails back downwards, hard enough to sting. Fraser moaned, closing his eyes as his head tipped back. He pushed his hips higher, showing how hard Ray’s touch and words had made him.

“I could hurt you.”

Ray pinched Fraser’s nipple. Fraser moaned loudly through the gag, pulling harder at the ropes to offer up his chest to Ray. Ray gave his other nipple the same treatment, twisting this time, hard enough to make Ray wince and bite his own lip.

Fraser’s jaw clenched; Ray had to assume he was biting down on his. . .gag.

“But I don’t have to touch you at all.” Ray’s thumbs pressed firm circles against Fraser’s nipples. “I could just walk away and leave you here, because, see, the point here is, what you want _doesn’t fucking matter._ I can do whatever the hell I want, and you just have to take it. You get the picture?”

Fraser opened his eyes to look up at him, nodding frantically.

“Good. That’s real good.”

Ray took Fraser by the jaw, turned his head roughly to the side, then bit his neck. He could feel Fraser’s moan vibrate against his mouth as Fraser twisted his head to bare as much of his throat as he could. Ray obligingly bit him again, down near the shoulder this time (because part of his brain was worrying about bite-marks and uniform collars) and then _on_ the shoulder.

Fraser’s moaning was getting frantic; it sounded like there might even be words in there somewhere, behind all that silicone. The sound of it and the way he was arching and twisting in response to Ray’s touch was starting to get Ray hot and bothered himself.

He straightened up and looked down at Fraser, wondering how to take this to the next level. He was tempted to just climb on top of Fraser and hump him, but it didn’t seem that. . .exciting, from Fraser’s point of view. Although, honestly, Ray couldn’t think of too many other options for getting himself off, here. Still. . .it wasn’t like he was in a hurry or anything. No need to rush.

Fraser’s fingers had let go of the rope; his left hand was spread wide open, palm up, while his right hand was as open as it could be without dropping the bells. Ray wondered if that was supposed to be some kind of specific signal, but the way Fraser’s knees were now bent slightly open suggested that any signals he was sending were just about making himself available.

Frowning, Ray considered those spread legs. When he’d thought about this earlier, he’d imagined fucking Fraser, but no, that was totally not going to work with Fraser’s feet tied down. There was no way Fraser could rotate his hips up far enough to let Ray in.

If Ray had been a woman, the obvious move would have been to ride Fraser: that was what you saw in movies and stuff, the guy tied down with the woman on top of him. Which he _could_ do, here, except that Ray not being a chick, there were extra steps involved before any actual fucking could happen. And while normally, prep could be part of the fun, it seemed like it would be an awkward hassle to try to prep _himself_ while Fraser just laid there. The point here was for Ray to do stuff to Fraser, or. . .or not-do it.

But, come to that. . .there was something he _could_ do. . .

He took the lube off the nightstand and stalked back down to the foot of the bed, between Fraser’s feet. From there he could clearly see that Fraser was hard and leaking. He poured some lube into his left palm and smeared it over the three middle fingers of his right hand. Fraser made mewling sounds into the gag, then closed his eyes, his head thrashing slightly, arms pulling at the ropes. Ray could see his cheeks hollowing as he sucked on the. . .thing in his mouth.

“That’s right.” Ray kept his voice cold and even. “You can’t keep it from me. You can’t get away, you can’t stop me. There’s nowhere I can’t touch you. No part of you that isn’t mine.” And okay, that sounded pretty creepy, but it was supposed to. It was all part of the act, part of the game.

He braced his left hand on Fraser’s hip, found the angle with his right (awkward, but do-able), and plunged three fingers into Fraser’s ass, forcing himself to push hard until they were all the way in. Fraser moaned louder. His eyes opened suddenly and he stared at Ray with desire bordering on desperation.

Ray twisted his hand slowly back and forth, loosening Fraser up until he felt like it might be possible to actually do something in there. With his eyes on Fraser’s face, he started sliding his fingers up and down, not much, just enough to find Fraser’s sweet spot.

Fraser blinked but tried to hold Ray’s eyes. Ray didn’t think he’d given an order, even a non-verbal one, but maybe Fraser was. . .waiting for permission, like he sometimes had before? Or for instructions?

“It doesn’t matter,” he said softly, moving his fingers in a slow rhythm, rubbing the sweet spot with each stroke. “There’s nothing you can do to change what happens to you. There’s no options. No choice. You gave that up when you let me tie you up. That was the last choice you get. Until I’m done with you.”

Fraser turned his head to one side, closing his eyes again, obviously trying to still himself against the ropes and stay silent behind the gag.

 _Damn it._ Ray didn’t actually want him to be a limp rag. He _liked_ it when Fraser responded to him. He wanted Fraser desperate enough to fight the ropes—that’s what they were there for, after all. But. . .what if he could get a reaction out of Fraser anyway, even when Fraser was trying for quiet submission? He didn’t want to set Fraser up to feel like he’d failed, but damn it, Ray _hadn’t_ given him any kind of assignment to keep calm, here.

He gave a soft, edged laugh, keeping up the motion of his hand as he put one knee on the bed so he could lean in over Fraser.

“That won’t help you, either,” he whispered. “You think you can just wait it out? You think _patience_ is going to get you through this? You just go on thinking that if you want. But this is _bigger than you.” Force of nature. Tidal wave._

With one hand still stroking Fraser inside and the other anchored on Fraser’s hip, Ray bent his head and breathed on the head of Fraser’s cock, not touching it. Fraser’s back arched, his arms pulling at the ropes. Ray pushed his fingers up hard as Fraser’s hips pressed down, then brought his mouth down onto Fraser’s cock.

Fraser moaned, long and low. He tried to push his hips up, but Ray forced him down, putting some real weight into it. He started sucking Fraser slow and tight, shifting his fingers inside Fraser’s ass now and then to add an element of surprise. When he looked up to check Fraser’s face, it was still turned to the side with the eyes still closed. Still, Ray could see enough to tell that nothing alarming was going on, and Fraser’s moans sure sounded happy as he strained against the rope. Pretty soon, Ray felt Fraser’s muscles ripple around his fingers, while Fraser’s head started rolling steadily from side to side. He was struggling hard now, his right hand clenched in a fist around the bells as his wrists jerked and twisted in their restraints.

 _Oh yeah, close now_. Ray could make Fraser come like this, but on the other hand. . . He slid his hand out of Fraser’s ass and his mouth off Fraser’s cock, and scrambled up onto the bed to straddle him. Pressing one sticky palm down on Fraser’s breastbone, right at the base of his throat, Ray grabbed Fraser’s chin with his clean hand and turned his face up.  
  
Fraser’s eyes opened in surprise, wide and vulnerable, with _holy shit,_ tears leaking from the corners. He moaned again: a familiar sound, a good sound.  
  
And tears were _good_ , Fraser had _said_ , but. . . Just to make sure, Ray let go of Fraser’s face and brushed his fingers along the heel of Fraser’s palm, right below where the bells were clutched. He held Fraser’s gaze as he did it.  
  
Fraser closed his eyes for a long moment, stilling his head. When he finally opened them again, he met Ray’s eyes and nodded deliberately. Ray gave him a little nod back. He couldn’t kiss him with the damned gag in the way, so instead, he licked the tears off Fraser’s cheekbones, first one side, then the other.  
  
“ _All_ for me,” he whispered, hoping he wasn’t crossing some creepiness line, here. Ray was honestly a pretty possessive guy, but not like _that_.

Fraser nodded again, less deliberately, and his arms relaxed slightly. Ray was straddling Fraser’s ribs, too far forward for Fraser to make contact, but he could feel the movement as Fraser thrust his hips into the air, as far as the ropes on his ankles would let him.

“Yeah, you want it, you need it.”

Ray took hold of Fraser’s chin again, forcing him to make eye contact. His other hand still rested on Fraser’s breastbone; if Fraser had been wearing a shirt, Ray could have grabbed a fistful, but as it was, he pressed down hard, pinning Fraser to the mattress.

Fraser closed his eyes and went limp under him. Ray felt a stab of frustration— _No, damn it, react!_ —and let it propel him into fierce action, just like in the interrogation room, a spark of real emotion fueling fireworks of put-on aggression. He jerked his left hand away from Fraser’s face to grab Fraser’s cock as he swung one leg over to kneel beside him, his right hand still pressed at the base of Fraser’s throat.

“Feel it,” he hissed, pumping Fraser’s cock. “You can’t win, here. It’s stronger than you are. You can’t hold anything back. You can’t do anything but feel it. What I’m doing to you. What I’m making you feel.” His hand sped up along with his words.

Fraser was moaning, maybe even sobbing, against the gag, tears running down his face as he finally started to move again. His head thrashed back and forth, making his throat move a little under Ray’s hand.

Ray bit his lips, muffling a weird, choked noise. It was like he was seeing double—Fraser writhing with pleasure, totally losing it and close to coming—Fraser thrashing in pain, and oh God, Ray knew his hand wasn’t close to Fraser’s windpipe but from here it almost looked like Ray was _strangling_ him. Ray’s heart started hammering and his breathing was going all ragged and he couldn’t even tell if it was lust or terror, but he kept up the rhythm of his hand on Fraser’s cock as Fraser keened against the gag and tried to thrust in time with him.

“ _Give_ it,” Ray panted. “Damn you. Give _up._ ”

Fraser’s wet eyes popped open to stare straight into Ray’s—he looked almost surprised—as he came with sudden force. Like Ray’s command. . .permission?. . .had unlocked some barrier that was holding him back.

He stared down at Fraser, his hand suddenly still, cradling Fraser’s cock as it started going soft. It felt like that moment at the end of a firefight, after the last shot is fired, when it’s like the world just stops for a second and you can’t move or think, you’re just _there_ and it’s over. Ray was shaking, and panting like he’d been running, and all he could do was look at Fraser’s face, wet with tears above the black slash of the damn gag, staring back at him with what looked like wonder.

Ray started to reach for him but realized that one of his hands was covered with come and the other with lube, which he’d already smeared on Fraser’s collarbone. So instead, he brought his palms down, one on either side of Fraser’s head, and leaned down to kiss the tears from his face. He was shaking harder by the time he was done; his biceps were trembling like he’d done a million pushups, even though he wasn’t putting much weight on his hands.

He carefully lowered his body onto Fraser’s with his crotch against Fraser’s stomach. The press of warm flesh around Ray’s cock pulled a groan from him. Letting Fraser take most of his weight, Ray rocked against him, slow and easy because that was somehow all he could do right now, and all he could _take_ , too. He was shivering like he’d been dunked in ice water, but he didn’t feel cold, he was hot, burning up, sweat rolling off his back and slicking his stomach as he humped Fraser. His eyes were squeezed shut, so hard that sparks were shooting behind his eyelids. He could hear his own breath rasping, little moans leaking out of him as the need built and focused and tightened, and then it crashed over him, leaving him dazed and trembling on top of Fraser’s warm, solid body.

Fraser made a little sighing noise. Ray could feel him pulling his wrists against the ropes, although without the frantic energy from before.

“Mm—it’s—” Ray struggled to string words together. “It’s okay. Got you. Just. . .” He pushed himself up a little so he could look at Fraser’s face.

Fraser looked back at him, a few tears still sliding down his face, managing to look trusting and open despite the gag covering his mouth.

“Okay,” Ray whispered. His voice sounded hoarse and kind of warped. “Okay, buddy. I’m telling you we’re done now.” He kissed Fraser on the forehead. “I’m just going to. . .I’m. . .”

He climbed off of Fraser and knelt beside him, wiping his hands on the sheets until they were sort-of-mostly clean. He was about to reach for the gag, but somehow he wasn’t quite ready for Fraser to start talking to him, not yet. Not while he was still spread-eagled and tied down.

So Ray bent over Fraser’s left hand instead. He pressed a kiss into his palm, then went to work on the knot. Between his shaking fingers and the fact that the knot had tightened, it was a bitch to work loose, but he managed it eventually. After unwinding the rope, he held Fraser’s wrist gently in his hands for a moment, thumbs resting lightly on the reddened skin. He kissed it softly, then brought Fraser’s hand to rest on his chest.

Fraser wasn’t so out of it that he couldn’t raise his hand back up again, brushing his knuckles softly against Ray’s cheek before letting his hand fall back where Ray had put it.

Blinking against the sudden stinging in his eyes, Ray slid off the foot of the bed to untie Fraser’s feet without turning his back on him. He stroked and kissed each of Fraser’s ankles when he got the ropes off. Fraser lazily flexed and relaxed each foot as Ray attended to it, humming slightly.

The knot securing Fraser’s other wrist was the worst, but Ray had calmed down some by then, so he wasn’t fumbling as badly. He finally worked it loose, unwound the rope, and gently uncurled Fraser’s fingers to take the bells. He kissed Fraser’s palm, then his wrist. Fraser kept hold of Ray’s wrist while doing a full body stretch with his other arm, arching his back off the bed and pushing his feet against the mattress before collapsing down again.

With the hand Fraser wasn’t holding, Ray reached over and touched the buckle of the gag. Fraser nodded, like he was the one who was giving permission this time.

It was a two-handed job, so Ray gently pulled his wrist out of Fraser’s grasp. He undid the buckle and pulled the gag free of Fraser’s face and hair. It was weird, how the thing looked like a meaningless jumble of bits and ends in his hands; you couldn’t really tell what it was for. Ray looked from the gag to Fraser, who was smiling slightly, his mouth slick with sweat and spit.

“Thank you, Ray,” he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse. “I haven’t. . .had that in a long time.”

Ray flinched a little before he could stop himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t know Fraser had done this before with someone else, probably more than one someone else. But it hit him like a gut-punch, to picture Fraser like _that_ , totally vulnerable, giving himself like that to someone who didn’t love him.

He brushed the backs of his knuckles across Fraser’s cheek, then leaned in to kiss him. Fraser returned his kiss, and it wasn’t passive or passionate, just sweet. A sweet, tender kiss between two lovers who happened to be surrounded by rope, one of them holding a silicone gag he’d just removed from the other.

Ray couldn’t help making a soft noise in his throat.

He stroked Fraser’s damp hair as he kissed him softly, over and over, feeling like it had been a million years since he’d been able to do this.

“Are you okay?” he whispered after a while, unwilling to actually pull away. “Do you. . .need anything? Water, or. . .?”

Fraser coughed a little.

“Water would be lovely, Ray,” he said, but he reached up to stroke Ray’s hair like he wasn’t any more ready to let Ray move than Ray was.

Ray snagged the canteen from the nightstand where Fraser had just sort of started keeping it lately. He helped Fraser sit up and wrapped his arms around Fraser's waist while Fraser downed a good half the canteen. When he wordlessly handed it over, Ray took a drink, more because Fraser wanted him to than because he felt all that thirsty.

“You’re a mess,” he said, stroking Fraser’s sticky stomach with his free hand. “Let me. . .” _Clean you up. Take care of you,_ he didn’t quite want to say _._

He kissed Fraser’s shoulder and reluctantly pulled away from him. Fraser moaned plaintively. Apparently he wanted Ray to hear the full range of moans he could make; this one was obviously _I know you have to go but hurry back._

Ray stumbled to the bathroom, not bothering to turn on any lights. He washed the gag under hot water and left it to dry on the edge of the sink. He gave himself a quick wipe-down with a washcloth since he was there, then carefully rinsed it out with warm water to bring back to Fraser.

He found Fraser lounging on the bed, stretching different limbs this way and that. As soon as he saw Ray, he flopped back with his arms open wide.

“Kiss me,” he said. “Please?”

Ray’s heart lurched. He stretched out on the bed next to Fraser, leaning on one elbow, and gave him a long, slow kiss.

“Mmm,” Fraser sighed happily. He pulled slightly away. “Are you all right, Ray?”

“Yeah. . .” Ray’s voice was still kind of wobbly. _He_ was still kind of wobbly, although he wasn’t really sure why. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just kind of. . .” He shrugged. “Wrung-out, I guess?”

“Wrung-out, indeed,” Fraser agreed as Ray started rubbing the washcloth gently over Fraser’s chest and stomach. “That feels good,” he added.

“Good,” Ray echoed. It felt good to him, too; _right_ , somehow, to clean the sweat and spunk off Fraser’s hot skin like this. Like the way he felt when Fraser held him after a scene, even though Ray was the one doing the caretaking, here.

“And. . .before, when I reacted so strongly. . .” Fraser started, then trailed off and he stared into space for several seconds before coming back to himself. “Thank you for not. . .for letting me.”

“I. . .what?”

Ray kept his eyes on his hands as he moved the washcloth over Fraser’s skin. He wasn’t sure what Fraser was trying to tell him, but figured it’d probably be easier for him to explain without Ray looking at him.  
  
“The first time,” Fraser said. “That first time, when I. . .cried. She said it was all right, that she understood. But later, she. . .” He didn’t finish the sentence. “Well, eventually she apologized for belittling me. I think she was lying, but I’m not really sure which time.”  
  
Ray couldn’t help jerking his head around to look at him.  
  
Fraser gave him a little smile. “Thank you for not doing that, Ray. I know you promised you wouldn’t, but under such circumstances, one can’t always honor promises made in the harsh light of day. As it were.”  
  
Ray shook his head. “I. . .I know I’m an asshole sometimes, but I’m not that kind of asshole.”  
  
“I’m not sure that’s really the issue,” Fraser said thoughtfully. “It’s natural to get a little. . .what, ‘freaked out’ when your partner starts sniveling all over you.”

And of course Fraser had been worried that Ray would do exactly that, even though he’d said he wouldn’t. Because Ray _had_ freaked out that very first time he’d tried to mess around with this domination stuff, and it seemed like Fraser was never going to let go of that. Ray couldn’t blame him for being paranoid about it. He just wished there was something he could do to convince Fraser that he wasn’t going to make that mistake again.

“You said it was. . .a good thing,” he said. “I took you at your word. It was fine.” _Fine_ wasn’t at all the right word, but he wasn’t sure how to describe the way he’d felt, seeing Fraser cry, and he wasn’t sure whether Fraser wanted to hear it, either. “It was good.”

Fraser reached up to rest his hand on Ray’s shoulder.

“It was good, Ray,” he said softly. “It meant. . . _means_. . .a lot to me.” He nudged the washcloth aside. “I think I’m clean enough,” he said, with a little smile. “In more ways than one.”

Ray dropped the washcloth over the side of the bed, then settled down with his head on Fraser’s chest. He couldn’t just drop the conversation there; Fraser wouldn’t have said anything in the first place if there wasn’t something there he needed to talk about. But Ray couldn’t quite tell if Fraser was shutting down or working himself up to actually talking. So he kept his mouth shut and waited, tracing his fingers lightly up and down along Fraser’s ribs to show he was paying attention.

Fraser reached over to switch off the bedside lamp. He settled back, resting his chin gently on Ray’s head, barely even disturbing his hair.

“That. . .what I said before about my scar and how it relates to how we ended up here,” he said hesitantly. “I’d like to tell you about it now.”

Ray’s breath caught, but he managed to keep his body relaxed against Fraser’s.

“I’m listening,” he said quietly.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to hear, but what he got was a story about how Fraser had tracked a bank robber up a mountain in a blizzard. Ray had already known the bare bones about the thief Fraser had arrested who had later showed up in Chicago and tried to kill him and frame Vecchio, but it turned out the truth was way worse than he could’ve imagined.

“Her voice,” Fraser said softly. “It was so beautiful. So was she, as it turned out, but I loved her for her voice alone.” He told Ray how he had built a lean-to, protecting Victoria and himself from the snow, and how he had warmed Victoria’s hand in his mouth.

“When we found my pack a day after the snowstorm cleared.” He sounded almost. . .fond. “We ate everything in it. Nearly the pack itself,” he chuckled.

Ray focused on forcing his body to stay loose as his mind spun, trying to make sense of it all. No, actually, it made _sense_ ; he could see where the story was heading, clear enough. Fraser falling for a criminal, there was no way that could end but serious scarring, even not counting the bullet Vecchio had put in him.

“We didn’t just gorge ourselves on food,” Fraser went on. “She was. . .forward. And beautiful. I couldn’t resist her.” He paused for a long time.

“And then. . .?” Ray prompted him softly.

“At first it was pleasant. It felt good. But she kept trying different things to try to make it more than pleasant for me. I didn’t have the experience to realize she was running down a mental checklist of possible sexual proclivities to find the one that would strike me _just so_.”

He thought for another long moment.

“It didn’t take her long to figure out that what I wanted was to be sexually dominated. Which was something I didn’t even know about myself. All I knew was that suddenly she was in charge, telling me exactly what to do and how to do it, and nothing had ever felt so good to me as doing what she told me to do, earning her praise for doing it well.”

 _This wasn’t your first time. Tell me it wasn’t your_ first _time._ It didn’t sound like it had been, quite, but Ray wasn’t about to ask.

“You wanted to—to please her. ‘Cause you loved her.” He managed not to trip over _loved her_ , even though anger was starting to boil up in him, hot and cold at the same time.

“True,” Fraser said. “But it was beyond that. Pleasing her in a more traditional sense, an equal exchange of pleasure I suppose you could call it, did not bring forth the kind of desire she wanted to see in me. She found that orders aroused me more than requests, that being roughly pushed made me want her more than being gently guided. And her goal was to enthrall me, make me love her, bind her to me so tightly that when we eventually found civilization, I would be more loyal to her than to my duty as an officer of the law.”

Ray felt sick. “But you didn’t. . .”

Fraser didn’t seem to hear him. “When she first did that—dominated me, I mean—it was so powerful, so unexpected and so far removed from anything I’d ever felt during sex before that I actually cried afterward. She held me close, she soothed me.” He paused again.

“And no, I didn’t. I turned her in. And when she realized that I wasn’t going to let her escape, she said she should have known I wasn’t a real man who could truly love, that I only responded to orders and that I liked the RCMP’s orders better than hers.” He cleared his throat. “She said that someone who cried like I did was emotionally starved and always would be.”

Ray’s head jerked up. “Fucking _hell,_ Ben! That just—that—” He took a breath, biting back the rage, and shook his head. “No. That’s—no.”

Fraser half-shrugged.

“It might have been a last-ditch effort to manipulate me into letting her go. It might’ve been something she said in frustration over not having successfully used me to escape justice.” He paused, then said quietly, “It might have been what she truly believed. At the time, I thought it was. I even believed it myself, but I was able to tell myself that I could not love her, loved I not honor more.”

Ray nodded, stifling the urge to say more, to try to fix it. Fraser sounded like he had more to say.

“Ten long, lonely, honorable years passed before I saw her again, right here in Chicago,” Fraser said, settling Ray’s head back down on his chest. “She seemed forgiving, and we resumed our relationship. We cooked nearly everything in my apartment, and I took her to my bed. . .or, to be more accurate, she took me in my bed.

“It was like it had been before, only she already knew exactly what I wanted. She said she’d thought of me, dreamed of what she’d do with me. To me. And she did it and I liked it. She did it so well that I cried again. She told me she was sorry she’d said those things to me, that she’d come to realize that my tears were those of someone with so much love inside him that it was a ‘precious gift’ I’d given her. We held each other, then we did it all over again and again.”

Ray held still, biting back the words that wanted to spill out of him. Curses, mostly. But even the words of comfort, of love—she’d poisoned them by saying them first. He moved his hand up to stroke Fraser’s shoulder, where the touch wouldn’t feel sexual.

“It was. . .by then I would have done anything for her. For the feelings she gave me.” After another of those pauses, Fraser recited the rest of the story in a flat voice. “It turned out she’d lied about everything. She framed me for that long-ago bank robbery and for shooting an accomplice who’d followed her here. Ray Vecchio mortgaged his family’s home to raise bail money for me; had I left, the Vecchios would have been homeless. She also planted evidence to frame Ray, though I managed to intervene on that score at least. She even shot Dief. And still I would’ve gone with her. I was at the station as her train was leaving. She reached out to me. I tried to catch her hand, but suddenly I felt a sharp pain in my back and then. . .nothing.”

 _Fuck. Fuck._ Ray felt like his mind had gone numb; he couldn’t think at all. None of what Fraser had said was news, except that he. . .that he’d wanted. . . Ray could picture _himself_ doing that, throwing it all away to follow the woman he loved, even knowing she was poison, but Fraser. . .Fraser was. . .

 _Fraser was royally fucked over, and fucked up, by a woman who must have been pretty fucked up herself to begin with_ , he told himself, trying to pull his head together.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, not knowing what else to say. He hugged Fraser, pressing his cheek against Fraser’s chest. “It’s over now. You’re okay.”

 _You’ve got me now,_ he wanted to say, but he didn’t want Fraser thinking about him and Victoria like they were. . .interchangeable, or related in any way. Chances were, Fraser felt the same. So Ray tried to tell him with the press of his body, with the love in his voice as he repeated, “It’s okay.”

Fraser caught Ray’s hand and lifted it to kiss the knuckles.

“Thank you, Ray,” he said quietly.

He held Ray’s hand as he went on with the story.

“I woke up in the hospital and learned that Ray Vecchio had shot me. He thought he saw her pointing a gun at me, so he shot at her but accidentally struck me instead. I’m not sure if that makes that scar Victoria’s mark on me or Ray Vecchio’s, but either way it’s not something I would ever want anyone, especially you, to balance.”

“I’m sorry.” The memory of his hands framing that scar turned Ray’s stomach. _You know what you need? Some kind of mark to balance out that one,_ he heard himself telling Fraser _._ He’d already known that was a fuck-up, that had been clear at the time, but Jesus, what Fraser must have felt like when Ray did it. . . He wanted to just curl up and hide, but he couldn’t pull away from Fraser’s embrace; that would just hurt Fraser even more. “I didn’t mean it.”

Fraser held him tighter, kissing the top of his head.

“You couldn’t have known,” he said softly, reassuringly. “There’s no way for you to have known what. . .what that mark is. Was.”

“Doesn’t make it right. That I hurt you. Made it worse.” Ray shook his head, trying not to fall apart. That was the last thing Fraser needed right now. Ray was the one who should be taking care of Fraser, not the other way around. “I’m sorry.”

Fraser shrugged. “And, actually, that it came up the way it did wasn’t really all that terrible.”

Ray shook his head again. That didn’t make any sense at all.

“If anyone had asked how I’d feel if something like that were to happen, I probably would’ve been horrified at the idea. But when it did happen, it bothered me, but not so much that I couldn’t continue. I just said no and so you did something else.” Fraser hugged Ray even tighter. “It seemed less. . .well, less important than it had once been.”

“You mean it?” Ray wished he could look at Fraser’s face. Fraser wouldn’t _lie_ to him, but Ray couldn’t get a good read on how Fraser was really feeling, either.

“Yes,” Fraser said after a moment. “It even came to mean something else to me, when you honored my safeword so quickly.”

Ray nodded, then turned his face to press a kiss to Fraser’s breastbone.

“Okay,” he said. It wasn’t really okay, not completely, but rehashing Ray’s mistake wasn’t going to make anything better. That part was done with and as fixed as it was going to get, and Fraser certainly didn’t need Ray whining at him about it. As for the scar itself, and the story. . .Ray didn’t have the first clue what he could do to make any of that better.

Fraser thought for a long moment, probably trying to remember what he’d been talking about.

“After I was. . .after the shooting, while I was recovering, I had a lot of time to think. Ray Vecchio helped, and there was even a mystery we solved from my hospital room. But what I thought of, over and over again, was how Victoria had used sex to manipulate me. Not just sex, but a rather transgressive kind of sex. I wondered why I liked it so much when she ordered me, was unkind to me, even hurt me. In the wake of our first encounter, I’d never allowed myself to think about it again. And if the sex I’d enjoyed during that decade was less intense than what she had offered me, I told myself it was because she was the only person I’d ever loved that deeply.”

Ray nodded, trying to ignore the surge of sick anger that rose up in him when Fraser talked about loving _her_. He made a soft encouraging noise as he gave Fraser’s shoulder a squeeze.

“So I thought about what I found so compelling about her. There was her beauty, her voice, the circumstances of our initial meeting. . .but I kept coming back to what she did for me sexually. So I went to the library and started reading about sexual pathologies.”

“But that ain’t. . .it’s not a _disease_ ,” Ray protested.

“Until recently, it was considered ‘deviant’ at best, unfortunately,” Fraser said.

“Yeah, but—” _But you know better than that,_ he stopped himself from saying. Fraser was normally the last guy in the world to judge people, but maybe he felt differently when it came to himself?

“I didn’t, _don’t_ , really think of my sexual preferences as ‘pathological,’ but that was where much of the literature was. In our cultures, it’s assumed that, in the absence of a truly egalitarian relationship, women are more or less sexually submissive and men are more or less sexually dominant. Therefore, sexually submissive men were considered particularly deviant. It didn’t help that much of the research and literature conflates sexual submissiveness with masochism. The assumption seems to be that the two are either intertwined or, if someone is submissive without being masochistic, his submissive desires are, in themselves, a form of emotional masochism.”

The sudden burst of academic talk made Ray’s eyes cross, but that was par for the course for talking with Fraser. What he wasn’t sure about was whether Fraser was feeling happily nerdy about explaining little-known facts, or whether he was using all those long abstract words to get some distance from the memories. Although the tension in Fraser’s body and the way he was holding onto Ray a little too tight maybe pointed to option two. Well, if Fraser wanted distance, fine; and if telling Ray about his library research cheered him up, even better.

“I don’t see why the two would have to go together,” said Ray. “They don’t seem like the same thing to me. Although. . .you sometimes talk about it like it’s all the same thing. For you. And you do like, uh, both.”

“The two frequently do go together, although not invariably. In my case, Victoria had used pain to excite me, so I knew I liked that part of it as well.”

Ray couldn’t help clenching his hand around Fraser’s as anger welled up in him again. It didn’t even make sense, he told himself, trying to stay cool. Nothing she’d done to Fraser physically could possibly have hurt him as much as what she’d done to him emotionally, or as much as a bullet in the back. _That’s just not the point._ But his hands knew what they wanted: to circle this woman’s throat and. . .

“How come?” he asked, keeping his voice calm. Freaking personal question, but it had to be better than saying anything about. . .her. “I mean, I know you like it, but what is it about, um, pain that does it for you?”

“Well, my body seems to interpret a certain kind of pain, at a certain level, under some circumstances, as pleasurable stimulus. But it was really more about psychological context. It was another way to endure, to submit. To eroticize suffering, to transform it into something. . .well, _positive_ seems a rather paltry word.”

Ray fought the urge to squirm. He could see—kind of—where it could be good, powerful even, to turn something bad into something sexy, but. . .thinking about Fraser suffering, _enduring suffering,_ made his gut clench. Thinking about him offering that up to. . .her. . .as some kind of. . .no, Ray wasn’t even going to think about that.

“I get that, I guess. Kind of. Um, and so. . .” He figured he’d better get them back to slightly less dangerous ground. “So, you did a bunch of library research?” _Nerdy Fraser to the rescue. Come on, tell me about the history of sadomasochism, just as long as it makes you feel better._

“I did indeed,” Fraser said. “I suppose I was burying myself in footnotes. Among many other things, however, my research taught me that most cities have a thriving community for people with my particular sexual interests. So I decided to investigate the Chicago community.”

“Uh huh?”

Ray didn’t dare to say anything more leading than that, because any instincts he’d had about Fraser’s sexual history were pretty much shot at this point. He wasn’t even sure if he really wanted to hear the rest of this. It wasn’t so much the idea of Fraser doing casual pick-ups that bothered him. Well, okay, maybe he _didn’t_ like that much, but he’d done his own share of sleeping around, so it wasn’t like he had a right to complain. But what really twisted him up inside was the idea of Fraser baring himself to a casual pick-up like he’d done for Ray tonight. And on the other hand, if it had been more than casual. . .well, that wasn’t exactly a comfortable thought, either. Still, whatever Fraser wanted to tell him, he was damned well going to listen.

“Yes,” said Fraser. “I suppose that, having learned a lot about theory, I was ready to put it to practical use. To see how my memories, fantasies and research compared. It was largely a positive and liberating experience. Even the parts that weren’t great, were still more disappointing than harmful.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well. . .” Fraser sounded nervous, now. “I liked it, Ray. I liked nearly everything I tried. And the parts I didn’t like were more about finding out that certain things weren’t as pleasurable as I’d imagined they would be. So the only negative was occasional disappointment rather than. . .something much worse.”

That all sounded fine, but if so, then what the hell was Fraser getting spooked about? It’s not like it was news to Ray that Fraser had tried stuff and liked it, not by now. Was Fraser still not trusting Ray not to flip out on him? Or was there something he wasn’t saying, something _not great_ or _much worse_?

“And you didn’t. . .When you found. . .other people to do it with, they. . .they treated you right?”

“Yes,” Fraser said. “I grew to be quite fond of many of them. I even. . .well, that’s not really appropriate pillow talk. But I liked them and they did, indeed, treat me right.” He laughed a little. “Very, very right in some cases.”

Ray bit his lips. People had exes, that was normal. God knew, Ray had exes. And even he knew it was dumb and out-of-line to be jealous of other people’s exes.

 _Stay focused_ , he told himself _. Fraser dropped a marker, there. If he really didn’t want you to ask about that_ inappropriate _thing, he’s smart enough not to have mentioned it._

“I don’t think you got to worry too much about appropriate pillow talk,” he said carefully. “It’s not like Miss Manners is taking notes, here. What were you going to say?”

“Well. . .you have to understand that the relationships I had within the community were rather limited.” Fraser drew a box in the air. “Contained. People would come together, do a scene and the next time they’d play with someone else, then maybe with each other again.”

Ray nodded. “Kind of like. . .I don’t know, like a dance class or boxing gym, where you switch up who you partner with? Or a nightclub with a regular crowd?”

“A little like aspects of all those things,” Fraser confirmed. “And it’s not as though nobody has ever developed a deeper relationship under those circumstances, but it’s not necessarily what people are looking for.” He paused before continuing, his tone both nervous and apologetic. “ _I_ wasn’t, to tell the truth.”

 _Can’t imagine why not, after having your heart shredded,_ Ray thought, feeling Fraser get even more tense beside him.

“You were looking to. . .experiment,” he offered. “To find out what it was like?”

“Yes,” Fraser said, relaxing just a little. “To see if the reality was like the fantasies I’d been having. And it felt. . .safe, exploring my feelings in necessarily limited encounters, with protocols, safety procedures and negotiations all helping to ensure that nothing would. . .get out of hand.”

Ray nodded. “Makes sense.”

A whole freaking lot of sense, really. Fraser was an all-or-nothing kind of guy in a lot of ways, and if he’d gone so crazy-in-love for her that he’d been willing to. . .well, do even more extremely stupid stuff than Ray had done for love in his time. . .of course he’d be looking to make sure he couldn’t go off the rails like that again. Couldn’t get hurt like that again.

“However,” Fraser said. “A pair of events made me realize just how limiting the circumstances were.”

“What happened?” Ray asked when Fraser didn’t keep talking right away.

“Once, I was doing a scene with someone at the club we used, and just as I was nearing climax, I looked up and happened to catch the eyes of a woman who looked familiar. Someone I knew from out there.” Fraser gestured at the window. “It was. . .she was looking at me with approval and admiration, and I felt helpless and exposed.”

 _You did this_ _in front of other people?_ There was nothing wrong with that in theory, Ray supposed, if everyone involved was down with it. But it seemed like such a private thing, he couldn’t imagine how the hell Fraser could have done it in front of an audience. Or why he would have wanted to. Ray wasn’t dumb enough to say so, though; he just kept his mouth shut and let Fraser go on with his story.

“But the part of me that felt shame and worry over being exposed like that was overwhelmed by a feeling of. . .relief, I guess. Peace. The feeling that my two lives had come together and that someone who respected me in one also found me pleasing in the other. . .I felt _known_. Accepted.”

“That sounds. . .good?” Ray didn’t think that was the punchline, though.

“In the moment, it was overwhelmingly good. But I quickly realized she wasn’t anyone I knew, just someone who looked similar. Which made me feel very lonely indeed.”

“That sucks,” said Ray softly, squeezing Fraser’s hand. He sure knew how that felt.

“The other thing. . .” Fraser paused. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “There was one time I did actually consider trying to pursue a more traditional, long-term relationship with someone I played with there.”

“Yeah?” Ray’s gut clenched and his heart speeded up, the whole fight-or-flight thing; he had no idea where he hoped _this_ story was headed.

“We’d done a punishment scene in which she’d. . .spanked me, and during the scene, while I was quite excited, she said I didn’t get to come. That was part of my punishment. She said I wasn’t allowed to come for twenty-four hours after she’d finished with me.  
  
“Then, when we were done, I asked her how she would feel if I really did follow that order. I surprised us both, I think.”

Ray blinked, confused. “She told you to do it, but she didn’t really mean for you to do it?”

“Exactly,” Fraser said. “We’d. . .played together, but we didn’t have the kind of ongoing relationship which would make either of us expect that I would follow that order. Within the parameters of the scene, it was enough that I didn’t have an orgasm during the scene itself. Afterwards. . .” He shrugged. “Well, as long as she didn’t know I did it, not really her concern.”

That seemed awfully cold, but if those were the rules they’d been playing by. . .fine, whatever. Ray still didn’t quite get how that worked, giving someone an order that didn’t mean what it said, but he didn’t want to sidetrack Fraser by asking him to explain.

“So, what did she say? When you asked her?”

“She said it was my body, of course I could do whatever I wanted. Then she thought about it and said if I really wanted to do it that way, she’d like to be the one to satisfy me in the end. But she had other commitments, so my wait would likely be three days. She said I could decide any time I wanted, and if I couldn’t keep my hands to myself. . .” Fraser broke off, smiling slightly. “I suppose, more accurately, _off_ myself, we could do another scene instead.”

“But you did it, didn’t you?” Ray couldn’t see Fraser backing down from that kind of. . .challenge—offer—whichever it had been.

“Yes, I did,” Fraser said. “And it ended up being five days, five days during which I thought about her quite a lot.”

Ray knew exactly what that must have felt like. He’d spent years waiting for Stella to be ready: for the weekend when her parents were out of town, for Christmas break when she came home from college, for his stint on the night shift to end, for an undercover gig to be over. Waiting, anticipating, thinking about how good it was going to be when they finally. . .

 _Did you propose to her out of horniness?_ he would have asked, if he’d been more confident that the answer wasn’t going to turn out to be _Yes_.

“I bet that was hot,” he said instead, because how could it not have been?

“It was. And almost. . .romantic. I hardly ever thought of tops outside the club, but, understandably I think, I started to have flights of fancy that maybe Julie might be someone I could see in a more traditional dating sense.”

“Did you ask her?” Ray asked.

“I waited to see how the scene played out. It seemed prudent.”

“And. . .?”

“When we met again, I was fairly eager, as I’m sure you can imagine. She wanted something from me first, so I gave it to her. About a half-dozen times,” Fraser added, sounding a little smug, though Ray could feel that his body was still kind of tensed up.

Ray snorted in amusement. Even though Fraser’s mixed signals were making him twitchy, this story sounded okay so far.

“Once I didn’t need my mouth anymore,” Fraser said, showing a little bit of a smile, a _naughty_ one. “I asked for my gag. Before she put it on me, she kissed me and told me what a good job I’d done. I nearly came on the spot.”

Ray reminded himself, again, that only creeps were jealous of their lovers’ exes.

“But that would have spoiled the fun,” he said, trying to match Fraser’s playful tone.

“Precisely so,” Fraser agreed. “It was fun,” he added, sounding a little apologetic. “She thought so, too. She edged me four times before she let me come.”

That image made Ray’s cheeks heat up. He thought about asking if was supposed to be taking notes, here, but he didn’t think he could quite manage to say it without sounding defensive.

“And so. . . ?”

“When she finally allowed my orgasm, it was extremely powerful. I felt very affectionate and grateful, and she seemed to feel the same way. We actually cuddled afterward, which was not the kind of thing either of us usually did there. I mentioned that I’d thought of her a lot over the previous days and nights. Especially the nights. She laughed and said something like, ‘No shit.’ She said she’d had similarly intrusive thoughts about me. That she’d be at the grocery store or watching a game and suddenly wonder if I was out there, somewhere in the city, not touching myself, or touching myself only so much but not enough.”

 _No shit,_ Ray agreed silently. Of course she’d thought about Fraser; how could she not have? Pictured him lying alone, his head resting on one arm, the other hand stroking himself gently, gently, not too much, looking forward to seeing her again. . .If she hadn’t been turned on by that image, she’d have had to be dead. It was turning _Ray_ on, just thinking about it now. He felt almost dirty, imagining the two of them like that, like he was some kind of peeping Tom, spying on something private. But Fraser was inviting him to look; he was practically doing a strip-tease in front of the window, here.

“She’d been looking forward to it too, huh? Maybe even. . .thinking about you the same way you’d been thinking about her?” Ray guessed.

“I know she was looking forward to it,” Fraser said. “When I told her that I’d waited for her, she was quite pleased. So those thoughts she’d been having during the week. . .I guess they meant _something_ to her.”

“But. . . ?”

“But I also got the feeling that she was ambivalent about those thoughts. That maybe she liked them but also found them intrusive and possibly even unwelcome, on some level. I think she wanted her encounters there to be as limited and contained as I did.”

Ray gave Fraser’s hand a squeeze.

“Did you ask her out?” Ray would have, if it had been him. Fraser, he couldn’t guess.

“No,” Fraser said. “I got the impression that any social overtures from me would’ve have been greeted with mixed feelings at best. And I think. . .once I saw her again at the club, I realized that I’d been fantasizing about something that might not be advisable, in reality. She. . .really seemed to prefer to dominate people in scenes that emphasized punishment.”

“Which wasn’t so much your thing.” Although apparently Fraser had been okay enough with punishment to really get off on what he and Julie had done together. . .what she’d done _to_ him.

“It was fine now and then, but all the time? With someone I was also in a relationship with? I wasn’t sure that would work out well for me.”

“Makes sense.” Personally, Ray couldn’t see being attracted to someone who wanted to punish him in the first place.

“And, at the time, I wasn’t entirely confident that I was really ready for a relationship, at least not with someone I'd met through the community."

“Why not?” Ray asked, then hastily added, “I mean, why not with someone from the club? I thought you said you got along with the people there.”

“I did, but again, the encounters were limited. And it seemed almost. . .backward, really, to try to start a relationship with someone I knew primarily through sex first. There were couples involved in the community, and the ones who seemed to have the kind of relationship I aspired to were those who’d met under more traditional circumstances and only later gotten involved in BDSM.”

 _What kind of relationship is that?_ Ray wanted to know, but couldn’t ask. It was too close to all the needy, pushy stuff he wasn’t going to dump on Fraser too soon, not to mention this would be the wrongest of wrong moments for it.

“I don’t know,” he said slowly. “Sex ain’t the worst way to start a relationship. But it ain’t the only way, either, that’s for sure.”

“It’s also a specialized kind of sex,” Fraser pointed out. “And, given my relative lack of experience with relationships. . .”

 _And your really horrible experience with a love affair that_ did _start that way, I hear you._ Come to that, Ray wasn’t sure whether Fraser’s _relative lack of experience_ included _any_ long-term relationships at all.

“Fair enough,” he said encouragingly. “So, you never. . .dated. . .anyone from that community, then?”

“No,” Fraser confirmed. “In fact, I had a chance to reflect on my life while I was back home, up in Canada, and I decided that I had gotten the most out of my exploration of the community in Chicago and it was time to put that behind me.”

“Oh.” Ray blinked. It wasn’t like he’d thought Fraser was still doing the sex-club stuff these days, but up to now, he hadn’t had a clue when or why Fraser had stopped. “So you. . .what? Stopped going to the club?”

“Yes. Well, I went one last time to say good-bye to some of the people I’d become friends with, to try to explain why I was going to disappear on them, but that was purely a social visit. I haven’t been back or seen any of them since.”

That sounded weirdly like going undercover for a long-term assignment (a real one, not the strange halfway-undercover thing that was Ray’s current job). Actually, even closer was what it felt like to _leave_ an undercover assignment. Leaving people you’d gotten used to, knowing you were never going to see them again. Except in undercover you didn’t normally get a chance to say goodbye.

“So how come you decided to make the break?” he asked. “You felt like. . .moving on to the next thing? You wanted something else?”

“When I made that decision, up in Canada, I wasn't sure about what I wanted.  I just felt that I had learned all I could from the club.  Of course, as you well know, I came back to Chicago to find that other aspects of my life had been radically changed in ways I couldn't have anticipated.  So I found myself moving on to the next thing in a number of ways, by necessity.”

 _As you well know. . ._  “Oh. This was. . .you mean, when you were in Canada and I was, um, starting at the 2-7?” _And replacing your best friend and shooting your life to hell._

“And my apartment had become a burnt out shell and most of its contents were lost,” Fraser said. “Adjusting to new circumstances was rather preoccupying, so forming a concrete plan for my sexual future was not the most urgent thing on my mind at that point. But while I was in Canada, I had realized that I was starting to feel that I might be ready to attempt a romantic relationship again, although naturally I was leery."

Which, yeah, that matched up with the sense Ray had gotten of Fraser when they’d been getting to know each other: kind of shy about romance, maybe not really sure what he wanted, but kind of. . .hoping. Like the way he’d lit up for that bounty hunter chick.

“And as I say, I wasn’t sure that was something I could find at the club, or even in the broader community.” Fraser went on. His arm tightened around Ray. “I was looking for something more traditional.”

Ray chuckled. “This is what you call traditional?” he said, then wished he hadn’t. Maybe Fraser really had been looking for a gun-toting, horse-breeding woman with a houseful of kids instead of. . .what he ended up with.

“Yes. Well, it started out that way,” Fraser said seriously. “You and I. Not everything about our courtship was traditional, of course, but we met through work, became friends, and that friendship became more. That’s traditional. And it should have been enough.”

Ray froze. “You saying it ain’t?”

Fraser sighed. “Apparently it wasn’t,” he said. “You figured that out quickly enough.”

“Oh.” Ray let out a long breath, trying to let go of his panic. Fraser wasn’t saying _Ray_ wasn’t enough, he meant that _traditional_ wasn’t enough. As in, garden-variety sex wasn’t enough, which yeah, Ray had figured that out by now, thanks. “Yeah, I. . .I can see why you didn’t want to let me know at first. Don’t blame you for being cagy.” It did kind of hurt to know that Fraser hadn’t trusted Ray enough to come clean about it sooner. Still, Ray probably would’ve done the same in Fraser’s shoes. “But no harm done, right?”

“I didn’t mean to be cagy. As far as I was concerned, that part of my life was over. But. . .I ended up dragging you into it. I hope there’s been no harm done,” Fraser said quietly.

“You haven’t dragged me nowhere,” Ray told him firmly. Maybe if he said it enough times, Fraser would believe him. “Wait, but. . .over? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“That I didn’t expect to do. . .that. . .ever again,” Fraser said, his voice getting a little edgy. “I thought I was done with it.”

“But. . .” Ray had obviously missed something, here. Had Fraser decided he didn’t like the submissive stuff after all? No, that didn’t make sense, because he obviously _did_ like it, and he always talked like it was part of his identity, something he was okay with. So, in that case. . .

“You still liked it, but you didn’t want a relationship with someone from that community. . .and you figured nobody from ‘out there’ would want to do this stuff with you?” Ray guessed. Fraser had certainly figured _Ray_ wouldn’t want to do it; and it wasn’t like he’d really been wrong about that.

“Essentially, yes,” Fraser agreed, shifting restlessly.

But wait, that still didn’t make sense. Sure, finding someone to date who was also into the kinky stuff wouldn’t have been _easy_ , but since when was Fraser afraid of hard work? Fraser loved a challenge. . .but he’d written this one off. Like he’d written off their friendship after the big fight that ended with Ray punching him, come to think of it. Ray had said _It’s quits_ , and Fraser hadn’t done a damn thing to try to change his mind. And not because he hadn’t wanted Ray. He _had_ , but he would have just let Ray walk away if that stupid dead pirate hadn’t come along, because he’d thought. . .

“You decided not to even try,” said Ray softly. “You figured you weren’t going to get what you wanted, so you’d better not want it.”

“Can you blame me?” Fraser asked sharply. He took a deep breath before continuing in a much softer tone. “It seemed unlikely to find someone who would be compatible with me in all things, so I thought about what was important to me. What was _necessary_. And getting slapped on the ass and taking orders from my. . .partner. . .didn’t seem all that important.”

“Of course I don’t blame you,” Ray said. Felt sorry for him, more like, not that he was dumb enough to say so out loud. He ran his hand gently over Fraser’s chest. “You didn’t want to set yourself up for disappointment. Who does?”

But no, that still wasn’t quite right. Fraser would throw himself at brick walls until his head broke or the wall fell down, when it was a question of justice or someone else getting the short end of the stick. And Ray had seen how hard it hit him when all his super-Mountie-powers couldn’t magically make the world perfect, but that never seemed to stop him from trying. Was he really more afraid of someone turning him down? Well. . .maybe he was, at that. Or maybe. . .maybe he wasn’t only afraid of _not_ getting what he wanted. . .

“It wasn’t just too much to hope for, it was too scary to think about.” The answer came out of his mouth before he knew what he was going to say.

Fraser went rigid against him. “And it still is.”

 _Oh. . .oh shit._ He’d pushed too far, like he always did. Mr. Test-To-Destruction, that was Ray. But Fraser was the one who had started this conversation. He had opened up for a reason. He’d wanted to share. Even though he was scared.

“You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to,” said Ray. “I know it’s hard for you to want to talk about this. And I know you were. . .” _Doing it for me, as a present._ But he couldn’t say that, remembering the bitterness in Fraser’s tone when he’d quoted Victoria: _precious gift_. He got up onto his elbow so they could see each other better. “It means a lot to me, that you’re telling me this. Everything you’ve said. I. . .just. . .thank you. I mean it.”

“It was the least I could do,” Fraser said. “But. . .still. . .the hardest, as well. I’ve spent most of this conversation trying not to just jump up and run away.”

“You’re not. . .afraid of _me_ , are you?”

“I’m afraid of talking about Victoria to anyone. Afraid of being judged for what I did after her.” Fraser wasn’t quite shaking, but he was still shifting restlessly, like he was trying to will himself not to fall apart.

“It’s okay.” Ray gripped Fraser’s shoulder. “You had some bad shit happen to you, but what she did to you wasn’t your fault. And there’s nothing wrong with how you did the club thing, or why you did it. You know that. And I know it too.”

“But all that. . .earlier tonight. Someone else saw that, too. Most of it. Several someones.”

“True,” Ray agreed, not quite sure where Fraser was going with this. “That a problem?”

“It’s one thing to be sexually promiscuous. It’s another thing entirely to be an _emotional_ slut.”

“Hey,” Ray said sharply. “You don’t use that word. That ain’t you.” He _didn’t_ get how Fraser could have stood to do something like this with ‘friends’ he barely knew except to have sex with, let alone wanted to do it. And he wasn’t real sure how he felt about that whole part of it. But what Fraser had done wasn’t _dirty_.

Fraser snorted inelegantly. “That _was_ me,” he said. “I wanted to feel certain things, so I turned myself over to men and women who could give me that. I let others watch and enjoyed it. What else would you call someone like that?”

“Lonely?”

Fraser jerked away from him. For a split second, Ray thought he was going to jump right out of bed, but he stayed.

“Desperate,” he countered bitterly. “Damaged.”

Ray reached over to the nightstand for the jingle bells. He wrapped Fraser’s fingers gently around them.

“Healing,” he offered quietly. “Also, brave as all fuck. To let anybody see you like that, ever again.”

“But they weren’t ‘anybody’,” Fraser said angrily. “They were people who didn’t know me.” The bells jangled faintly, but not like a signal. More like he was clutching them so hard his hand was shaking.

“So their opinion didn’t really matter?” Ray guessed. “You could trust them to take care of you, but you didn’t have to. . .” _Trust them to understand you. To love you._ “. . .Worry about anything else.”

“Their opinion only mattered within that specific community,” Fraser said. “Beyond that, no. They liked me and took care of me there, but that was the extent of it. And I traded my desires for theirs; my need to submit, in exchange for their need to dominate. How can that not be sl—promiscuity?”

“Same way as it ain’t abuse,” said Ray, remembering what Fraser had said the first time they’d talked about him being into submission. “You all knew what you were there for, no one was taking advantage, everyone got what they wanted and went home happy. Right?”

“Yes,” Fraser agreed, drawing out the word so the silent _but_ was obvious.

“But what?”

“I could only go home happy for so long before it wasn’t enough. And then when I got what I thought I wanted from a relationship, I wasn’t enough.”

“So, okay, you want both, what’s so wrong about—wait, what?” Ray broke off as he realized that what he’d thought Fraser said wasn’t actually what he’d _heard_ him say. “ _You_ weren’t enough? Where the hell is that coming from?”

“I wasn’t enough for you,” Fraser said. He mostly sounded sad, but maybe there was a little bit of anger creeping in. “You wanted more.”

“ _I_ wanted—?” He’d wanted—what had he wanted? He could barely remember how things had been before he’d jumped down the rabbit hole, what he’d been thinking that got them here. . .But yeah, all right, Ray was the one who’d pushed this, every step of the way, so maybe that did make it his fault—no, not his _fault,_ he was trying to give Fraser what he needed, why was that a bad thing?

“I wanted. . .” He sat up, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand as he looked down at Fraser. “I wanted to make you _happy._ ”

Fraser looked straight up into Ray’s eyes. “I _was_ happy.”

 _Not in the sack, you weren’t._ Ray bit back the words. _I’ve seen what happy looks like on you, now. I know the difference._ Unless Fraser really _didn’t_ want to—no, damn it, that was bullshit. Ray’s instincts weren’t that crappy. Fraser had been happy half an hour ago. He’d thanked Ray and he’d damn well meant it.

But that was an argument that could only end badly.

He took a breath and let it out slowly, wishing for the magic words that would make this all right again.

_I wanted to make you as happy as you make me. I wanted you to want me like I want you. I wanted you to stay with me. Please stay._

“I wanted. . .I wanted to give you the moon.”

Fraser took a deep breath of his own. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue this conversation right now,” he said tightly.

 _Fuck fuck fuck what’s wrong with that what did I say don’t hate me please. . ._ Ray fought down the panic; panicking would just freak Fraser out completely.

“Okay,” he said as calmly as he could, searching Fraser’s face and body for cues. “We can stop. That’s okay.”

Fraser visibly relaxed.

“Thank you, Ray,” he said quietly. But he pulled away and got up off the bed.

“Are you—?” _Are you leaving? Are you leaving me? Are you okay? Are we okay? Don’t leave._

“I’m going to wash my face and get a glass of water,” Fraser said carefully. “And think for a few minutes.”

 _He’s not mad,_ Ray told himself as he sat with the sheets pulled up around him, listening to the water running in the bathroom, trying not to lose his shit. _He’s scared and upset and he just dragged himself backwards through a lawnmower, telling you about all that stuff._ Which was all true, but he wasn’t really afraid of Fraser being mad. Hurt, maybe. Or disappointed. Ray wasn’t sure which would be worse.

Fraser came back to the bedroom and began pulling on his clothes. Ray watched, biting his tongue on all the stupid things he really wanted to say: half of them would start a fight and the other half were pathetic and needy and would probably freak Fraser out even more. But shit, he couldn’t just let Fraser walk out the door without saying _anything._ And maybe Fraser was just waiting for Ray to ask him to stay, even though Ray hadn’t had to _ask_ him for weeks. . .

“Ben,” he said softly, then stopped, not sure what to say next.

“What?” Fraser’s voice was just on the hard edge of neutral.

“You don’t have to. Go. You don’t have to go.” _Don’t go. Stay with me. Don’t leave me._

Fraser paused, turning to look at him. “I love you. You know that, don’t you?”

“I. . .” Ray bit his lip. “Yeah. Yeah, I know that. And I love you.”

“But I really need to be alone right now,” Fraser said, turning his back to put his shirt on.

Ray nodded, hugging his knees under the sheet.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Fair enough.”

Fraser reached to get his watch off the nightstand, but then stopped and just stared down at it for a second.

“Ray,” he said. “Where’s your watch?”

“What?” Ray stammered, completely thrown. “I don’t know. Nightstand? Kitchen? Coffee table?”

Fraser kept staring at the watch in his hand. “I thought. . .maybe we could trade? For a couple of days? I could take yours and you could take mine?”

“Uh. . .” _Use your fucking words, Ray._ “Uh, sure. Yes. If you want.” He looked around, but didn’t see his own watch. It probably was out in the other room. “Do you want me to. . . ?”

“Please,” Fraser said, finally turning to Ray with his watch held out like some kind of offering.

Ray took it, resisting the impulse to grab Fraser’s hand, kiss it, pull him in and hold him close, make him stay. He buckled the watch onto his wrist with clumsy fingers.

“Give you a ride?” he offered tentatively, although he figured Fraser would say no.

“No, I’ll be fine,” Fraser said, lacing his hiking boots. “Although I might have trouble finding your front door without assistance,” he added with a faint smile.

Ray pulled on his jeans without bothering with underwear and followed Fraser out into the main room. The brightness of the lights they’d left on earlier was like a slap in the face.

Squinting, he scanned the room: yes, there was his watch, on the bar. He grabbed it, then held it out to Fraser, who carefully strapped it onto his wrist.

“Thank you, Ray,” he said. He headed for the door.

“Are you—coming back? Sometime?” Ray knew he shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t have to ask, but he couldn’t help it.

Fraser gave him a funny look. “Of course I am. You have my watch.”

Ray nodded. It was still better to hear him say it.

He stood with his hands in his pockets as Fraser leaned forward, kissed him softly on the mouth, and was gone.

He listened to the sound of Fraser’s boots fading down the stairs, and then kept standing there for a while after he couldn’t hear it any more. The city was loud outside the windows; Jesus, it wasn’t even that late, it just felt like he’d been up forever.

He thought seriously about having a drink, but he was pretty sure that would just make him feel worse. So he shut the light off and curled up on the couch. He stared through the semi-dark at the blank TV screen with his right hand clutching his left wrist, the big dial of Fraser’s watch printing itself into his palm, until eventually he drifted off into restless sleep.

 

 

                                    *                                              *                                  *

 

 

Sunday dragged by like a fucking month of Sundays, and Fraser didn’t call, and he didn’t turn up. Ray spent the morning rattling around the apartment like a jonesing junkie, unable to sit still or concentrate on anything for more than a couple of seconds at a time. After the fourth time he had to talk himself out of calling to see if Fraser was okay, he realized he was going to snap pretty soon if he didn’t do something to get his mind off it, so he headed out to the boxing gym.

He kept his cell phone right by his feet while he worked out on the heavy bag, because Fraser was smart enough to call it if he couldn’t reach Ray at home. Of course, Fraser didn’t have a cell himself, so if he _went_ to Ray’s apartment looking for him, he wouldn’t have a phone to call from. But no, that was stupid, Fraser could just let himself into the apartment and call Ray from there. He would use his key, wouldn’t he? Even though Ray wasn’t there, and things were all weird and maybe Fraser thought he didn’t have the right to. . . ?

Swearing under his breath, Ray yanked on his street clothes without bothering to shower and headed home. Where, of course, there was no sign of Fraser. So then he had to talk himself down again: _Fraser knows how to get hold of you if he wants to. The ball’s in his court. He needs time, give him time._

He made himself eat dinner and watched something on TV that he had no idea what it was and didn’t call Fraser. He crashed on the couch again for a couple of hours of restless sleep plus a lot of thrashing around trying not to wonder when he’d be able to face the bed again.

By Monday morning, he was fried and jittery and cranky and not in much shape to fight crime, but he hauled his ass to work and tried to make like a functional police officer. Fraser wasn’t scheduled to liaise that day, and nothing weird cropped up that would require his help. Ray was just about climbing out of his skin when Fraser called in the afternoon to ask was it all right for him to come over to Ray’s place after work.

“Yeah, sure, I mean, that’d be cool,” Ray stammered like an idiot. Shifting the phone, he managed to knock his coffee all over his pants and the Sanchez case file that was spread out over his desk. “Shit, damn it—not you, sorry, just—” He grabbed for the papers with both hands, gripping the receiver between his ear and shoulder.

“Is everything all right?” Fraser asked, sounding like the soul of concern.

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s cool, I just got a—a thing, here—”

“Oh, well, I’ll leave you to it. But first, if you could tell me what time would be convenient for me to stop by?” Only someone who knew Fraser very well would’ve heard the nervousness behind the formality.

“Um, any time—I should be able to clock out at five, so whatever you—we can order dinner if you want, or—” He sounded like a loser, but at least Fraser couldn’t see him also _looking_ like a loser with coffee all over his pants, frantically waving the paperwork in the air to dry it. “Really, whatever.”

“I’ll pick up a pizza and stop by around 6:30, then?” Fraser offered, still sounding a little antsy.

“Sure, cool.” There was that awkward pause of not wanting to hang up even though the call was obviously over, and not having anything to say, or at least not anything he could say over the phone in the middle of the bullpen, and since when were he and Fraser _awkward_ with each other? “Uh, see you then.”

“See you then,” Fraser echoed and hung up.

Ray managed to make it out of the station house right at 5:00, dodging Frannie’s attempt to corner him with some question about the Krazynzky paperwork—for God’s sake, didn’t the woman want to get home to dinner herself? Traffic was murder, of course, but he still made it home in time to change out of his coffee-stained clothes and take a quick shower. Not because he needed to spiff up for Fraser; just, coffee in the lap, ugh. He dithered over clothes for a little while, until he caught himself doing it and yanked on the first clean jeans and T-shirt he could put his hands on. Then he wandered around the living room at a loose end until the doorbell finally rang, which made him nearly hit the ceiling.

Fraser stood at the door, holding a pizza box out like a gift.

“Hello, Ray,” he said in a soft, neutral tone.

 _No, come on, buddy, you got to give me a cue, here._ Ray didn’t _think_ this was going to be a break-up conversation, but he wasn’t sure what it was or what the hell Fraser wanted right now or what might spook him again. Were they pretending like nothing had happened or playing by some new set of rules or what?

He took the pizza in one hand and gestured with it for Fraser to come in.

“C’mon in. Make yourself at home.”

Fraser followed him into the apartment, settling on the couch. Ray chose interpret that as a good sign; Fraser could’ve sat at the dining table, putting distance between them.

Ray fetched plates, drinks and napkins from the kitchen. When he sat down beside Fraser, he suddenly couldn’t stand the careful not-touching thing for another second. He didn’t want to spook Fraser, but if he had to sit through dinner with both of them being nervously neutral and polite he was going to throw something through a window. So he leaned over just enough to rest his head on Fraser’s shoulder, not touching him anywhere else.

Fraser put his hand gently on top of Ray’s.

“Do you want to talk now, or after pizza?” he asked.

“Don’t care about pizza,” Ray mumbled.

“I’m not sure where to begin,” Fraser said. “I’m not even sure _who_ begins.”

“Your play, buddy,” said Ray. “I don’t even know what the game is, here.”

Fraser rubbed the back of his neck.

“If it’s a game,” he said seriously. “I’m pretty sure neither of us is winning right now.”

Ray pulled away to lean against the arm of the couch, hugging himself.

“Look, if. . .” He swallowed and tried again. “If you’re breaking up with me, here, could you please just say so and we can get on with it?”

Fraser looked at Ray with astonishment and maybe even a little fear on his face.

“Good Lord, no!” He paused. “Unless that’s what you want.”

“You fucking well know better than that.” The harshness of his own voice startled Ray.

“No,” Fraser said, fairly mildly considering what Ray had just said and how he’d said it. “I don’t know better than that. I don’t really know what breaking up looks like and I don’t really know how you feel about me right now.”

Ray closed his eyes for a second, feeling a lot of the tension drain out of him.

“Okay.” He opened his eyes and held out his arms to Fraser. “Come here?”

Hesitantly, stiffly, Fraser moved into his embrace. Ray folded him in and held him close.

“Okay, number one: we’re not breaking up. Number two: I love you and I—I miss you, and I am scared to death that—that you’re mad at me or hurt because I did something I don’t even know what it was. Or that you don’t want me anymore, except it sounds like you do so maybe I don’t have to worry about that so much. That better?”

“Yes,” Fraser said, relaxing into Ray’s embrace. “Much better. I was worried because I told you things about myself that most people would probably find alarming and then I ran away.”

“And how do _you_ feel about _me_?”Ray forced himself to ask, because apparently Fraser actually needed help connecting the dots about what Ray needed to hear from him, here. Which was funny, because usually it was Fraser’s job to help _Ray_ connect whatever dots needed connecting.

“I love you,” Fraser said instantly. “But I’m afraid. Not of you,” he was quick to add. “But. . .afraid. I’m not entirely sure why. Rejection is a large part of this fear, but there’s more to it than that. Something. . .something I can’t really identify, let alone articulate.”

“Ow. Okay.” Ray pressed a kiss into Fraser’s hair. “Is there. . .we don’t got to talk about this if you don’t want, but. . .if there’s something I can do to make it easier on you. . .”

“If I don’t even know what it is, I can’t really figure out how you can help me with it. I don’t even know how to help myself with it.”

“All right.” Ray let go of him and settled back on the sofa. “Just so you know you don’t have to do all the heavy lifting by yourself. Right?”

“I think I figured that much out, at least.”

“And if you need me to back off, give you some space, or—I can do that. Or not. Or we can go back to going along like we’ve been doing, or. . .” Ray shrugged.

“I think I’ve already gotten the space I need,” Fraser said. “I found a hiking trail yesterday and followed it for hours. I thought about what I told you and realized it was the first time I’d actually revealed those aspects of my personal history to anyone. Which is probably why I ran away.” He thought for a moment. “I had to be alone, but I knew I didn’t want to leave you.” He held up his left hand. “That’s why I took your watch and gave you mine. So you’d know that.”

“I’m glad you did. I mean—well, the watch, too—but I mean, I’m glad you told me. About you.”

“So am I, as hard as it was. While I was thinking, I realized that I didn’t have the level of. . .self-acceptance, I suppose I could call it. . .that I thought I did. I honestly thought my past wasn’t a source of worry or shame to me, but when I told you about it. . .” Fraser’s voice trailed off. “Well, it was like seeing that aspect of my life, of myself, for the first time. And I found it less than admirable.”

“Yeah, that. . .that kind of surprised me,” Ray admitted tentatively. “I thought you were. . .okay with things. Well, maybe not. . .the scar and all that part, but the rest of it. The club, experimenting. Knowing what you like.”

“I thought I was, too. But at first, when I was telling you about it, I was worried about how you’d react. I didn’t realize that _I’d_ react the way I did. Judging myself. Calling myself names I’d never use against another person.”

“So, but why’s it okay for your friends but not for you? ’Cause I can’t imagine you even thinking some of the stuff you said, about anybody else.”

“That’s one of the things I don’t understand,” Fraser confessed. “Maybe one of the things that frightens me.”

Ray nodded.

“Well. . . _I_ don’t think you’re a—a slut, okay?”

“That helps,” Fraser said. “I’m not sure why you’re all right with the things I’ve done, but hearing it helps.”

“It’s not like I haven’t done something similar,” Ray said hesitantly. “I mean, not kinky sex, obviously, but. . .after the divorce, I dated some. If you want to call it that. Not. . .not anyone who would’ve been interested in me for anything long term. Couple of nights, a long weekend, that was it. No one I knew. Between Stella and you.”

“Hmm,” Fraser said. “A different form of experimentation, of seeing what was available, but essentially the same in principle.”

“Wasn’t thinking of it like that at the time,” said Ray. “Well, except for the guys, that was kind of an experiment. I thought. . .well, I wasn’t thinking, most of the time. If you’d asked me at the time, I’d’ve said I was. . .moving on. Looking for the next thing. But now I think. . .well, the evidence is against it.”

“Against it? How?”

“If I’d wanted to get involved, I could’ve looked for someone was up for more than a one-night stand. Someone who wouldn’t turn me down. Someone who actually knew me, or wanted to.”

“And that wasn’t possible under your circumstances either?”

“Don’t know. Didn’t find out, did I?”

“So you never had an experience equivalent to mine with Julie, then?” Fraser’s voice finally sounded lighter.

“They were all kind of like that.” Ray’s eyes were on his fingers as they rolled his bracelet up and down over his wrist. “Every woman I asked out, I was thinking she was going to be The One, you know? But. . .even when I was all worked up, part of me kind of knew it wasn’t the real thing. And maybe liked it that way.”

“You must have changed your mind at some point, as I did,” Fraser said, half-question, half-statement.  
  
“Mm. . .The thing is. . .” Ray snuck a peek up at Fraser. “Turns out I’m no good at not wanting things.”

“And I’m not either,” Fraser said, sounding more relaxed, _happier_ than he had since Saturday night.

Ray smiled, relaxing some more himself. Although. . .that, right there, that was part of the problem. If Fraser would’ve just wanted what he wanted and let Ray give it to him, this would’ve all been much easier. But then, if Ray had been looking for easy, he wouldn’t have been hanging around with Fraser in the first place.

“Well, good thing we were both available, huh?” He looked Fraser in the face. “We good now?”

“We are indeed,” Fraser said, looking right back at him for a few seconds. Then he leaned forward to kiss Ray, gently and tentatively at first, but growing more aggressive as Ray welcomed his kiss.

 _Oh God, yes, thank you,_ Ray thought as he let Fraser push him back against the arm of the sofa. Fraser still wanted him and wasn’t spooked out of touching, out of sex. . .But no, this was not a good idea, Ray was playing with fire here, because he didn’t know how okay Fraser was really, and make-up sex was one thing, make-up sex was great, but make-up sex with orders and submission was. . .complicated, and he really really didn’t want to freak Fraser out again now that he was back.

So, after a little more making out, Ray got his mouth off of Fraser’s long enough to murmur, “Hey, not that I’m minding this at all, but you did promise me pizza.”

Fraser reluctantly pulled back. “I understand there is a great tradition associated with cold pizza, although it’s my understanding that it’s more of a breakfast phenomenon.”

“Psh, that’s what they invented microwaves for. But it’s better fresh, and all I’ve had today was coffee and a day-old bagel. C’mon, feed me.”

“With pleasure,” Fraser said, picking up a slice and pointing the business end toward Ray’s mouth.

Surprised, Ray laid back against the arm of the couch with his hands behind his head and grinned up at Fraser, who laughed down at him.

“Here comes the seaplane,” Fraser sing-songed, waving the slice in the air like a plane, then zooming it toward Ray’s mouth.

Ray snorted with laughter himself before clamping his mouth shut and sticking out his lower lip in a pout. It always took him by surprise when Fraser got goofy like this, since he was so serious so much of the time. Of course, that was half of why Ray loved it when he did loosen up.

“Now, Ray,” Fraser said ‘reasonably.’ “If you don’t allow the seaplane to land safely, nobody will get their mail. Do you want that to happen?” He had the pizza in a holding pattern a few inches from Ray’s face.

Ray rolled his eyes.

“You got a funny idea of safe,” he said, but he opened his mouth again.

Fraser lowered the pizza carefully into Ray’s mouth. Fortunately, it had cooled off enough so it wasn’t too floppy or drippy. This still wasn’t going to win any neat-eating championships, but also fortunately, the only neat-freak who was likely to set foot in Ray’s apartment any time soon was the one currently instigating the pizza hijinks.

“If you eat your pizza,” Fraser promised sweetly, “Later you can have all the broccoli you want.”

“I’m holding out for a better deal,” said Ray around a mouthful. Although honestly, Fraser being playful and flat-out silly was a pretty damn good treat already. “You good for a bedtime story?”

“Hmm.” Fraser sat back, holding the crust out of Ray’s reach. “Telling or listening?”

 _Careful. . ._ Ray didn’t want this getting back into freak-out territory, and he really hadn’t been trying to push. . .or at least, the _story_ part in particular wasn’t what he’d been angling for.

“Either. Both. You pick.”

“Hmm.” Fraser looked thoughtful. “On the one hand, I’ve been told that my store of anecdotes about northern Canada is exhaustive,” he said, tearing off a bite-sized piece of crust to hold up to Ray’s lips. “Or perhaps it was ‘exhausting’.” He fed Ray the bite. “On the other, perhaps I’d like to be the one who does the listening.”

“You got it,” said Ray. “As long as. . .Sorry, no, I didn’t mean it that way. It ain’t a deal, you don’t got to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I was just. . .I’m hoping you want to spend the night.” If he’d been sitting up it would have been easy to look away right about now, but as it was he was stuck looking up into Fraser’s face and trying not to look as embarrassed—or as hopeful—as he felt.

“I would love to spend the night,” Fraser said, suddenly solemn. “Thank you, Ray.”

“You’re kindly welcome.” Ray had a feeling his smile was a totally goofy one, but he didn’t really care. “Now, you going to eat some of this pizza yourself before it gets totally cold?”

“As you wish,” said Fraser. Ray wasn’t sure if he was joking about the whole sexual submission thing, or just quoting _The Princess Bride_ (because if Fraser knew _Star Trek_ , Ray was going to have to stop assuming he had any idea what pop culture Fraser was actually aware of). But he didn’t care, because the smile on Fraser’s face as he reached for the pizza was just as big and goofy as Ray’s.

As they ate, Ray told Fraser about the six stolen yip-dogs that Huey and Dewey had brought into the bullpen to wait for their owners to claim them, and Fraser told him how Turnbull had waxed all the Consulate floors with some extra-super-slippery cleaning product. Fraser offered to come along with Ray to sweet-talk the Sanchez brothers when he went back to interview them again, so that hopefully Ray wouldn’t have to kick them in the head. Normal, easy stuff. Maybe they were both still feeling a little self-conscious, acting a little careful. But it mostly felt like they were back to usual.

Except that when they called it a night and headed for bed, Ray suddenly felt kind of nervous and awkward, almost like Fraser was staying over for the first time all over again. He was glad Fraser was there, and Fraser seemed happy to be there, but Ray wasn’t quite sure how back to normal things really were, and it was just. . .a little weird, like sex was the unmentionable gorilla in the room.

Ray went to brush his teeth, and when he came back, he found Fraser standing by the bed with his shirt unbuttoned and his jeans still on, holding Ray’s watch and just looking at it. His head came up as Ray shut the door behind him.

“I suppose we should. . .” He held out the watch towards Ray.

“Here.” Ray took it, then unbuckled Fraser’s watch from his own wrist and reached around him to lay them both on the nightstand. “In the morning, huh?”

“All right.”

As long as he had his arms more or less around Fraser anyway, he took the opportunity to give him a hug. Fraser leaned against him with a contented sigh.

“C’mon,” said Ray after a moment. “Let’s get to bed, huh?” He slid under the sheet, leaving Fraser to finish getting his clothes off without Ray staring at him. When he put the light out and got into bed facing Ray, Ray pulled him in close.

“Ray,” said Fraser quietly after a moment. “There’s something I’d like to tell you.”

“What’s that?” Ray asked, keeping his body as relaxed as possible although he had no idea what was coming.

“I want you to know that I’m grateful to you for letting me run away. Allowing me to come back on my own terms. I know it probably wasn’t easy to let me walk out, not to call me, to not even know what I was thinking. And I really appreciate that you let me do it.”

“No problem.” Ray’s chest and throat were tight all of a sudden. He hadn’t known how big a difference it would make to hear Fraser actually say that. “I mean. . .no, it wasn’t much fun, but. . .but it was what you needed to do, and I knew. . .well, you said you’d come back, so. . .I knew you would.”

“I thought you would know that, but I wanted tangible proof of my intentions,” said Fraser, rubbing his thumb over Ray’s wrist.

“Yeah, it. . .that made it easier. I mean, I believed you, but. . .it made me feel better. Having something I could touch.”

“I wanted it for both of us,” said Fraser. “Not just from me to you. I wanted to remember that you let me go, trusting that I would return. That you didn’t judge me and that you loved me in spite of things I’d done and that you were giving me time. I wanted to make it explicit. An exchange of something of yours, for something of mine.”

Ray bit his lip so he wouldn’t blurt out something stupid about wedding rings. What Fraser had actually said was big enough.

“If it were just about _things_ , Ray,” Fraser added softly as Ray gave him a squeeze. “You have three of my uniforms in your closet, including my spare Strathcona boots.”

Ray knew exactly what things of Fraser’s he had in his apartment right at this moment, but he wasn’t sure if Fraser would be creeped out to know exactly how much that meant to Ray. Although, after all the soul-baring Fraser had done this weekend. . .maybe fair was fair.

“I know that,” Ray said. “And I. . .um. Sometimes when you’re not here. Especially yesterday. It makes me happy to open the closet and see your clothes in there. To touch them.” He was blushing, he knew he was, and it wasn’t even like this was some deep, dark secret, it was just. . .juvenile.

“Ah,” Fraser said. “I don’t suppose you’ve noticed certain. . .items. . .missing from your own clothing supplies?”

“Well, I know you’ve still got some of my sweats over at the Consulate from that one time,” Ray said. He didn’t think he was actually missing anything, but it wasn’t like he kept careful track of his clothes.

“And, since I freed it from your hamper, you may have thought that a voracious washing machine had eaten one of your vast collection of T-shirts celebrating the Blackhawks. I must confess to being the culprit,” Fraser said, sounding not at all sorry.

“You lifted one of my shirts? Why?” Well, that was dumb, Fraser had just said why, basically.  “I mean, what do you do with it?” Ray let his voice drop teasingly. “You _wear_ it?”

“I. . .ah. . .perhaps a change of subject would be in order?” Fraser suggested nervously.

 _Damn it._ Ray seriously could not imagine what Fraser could do with Ray’s T-shirt that would embarrass him more than some of the stuff they’d been doing together, but the last thing he wanted was to get Fraser all upset again. _Back off? Treat it like it’s no big deal? Which?_

“If you want,” he said, making sure his smile came through in his voice. “But you know, if you don’t tell me, I’m just going to _imagine things_. . .”

“I smell it, sometimes,” Fraser confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Right, of course you do,” Ray breathed. Because yeah, he could picture Fraser doing that, holding up Ray’s shirt to his face, or. . .or taking it to bed with him, even, _oh God_ , that was kind of hot but it also made his throat hurt.

He forgot what he’d been going to say, almost overwhelmed by the urge to blurt out, _Why the hell are you still living in your office, Ben? Move in with me. . ._ But no, stupid, even if it wasn’t way too soon to be moving in together, he’d have to be crazy to pick tonight to drop that kind of bombshell on Fraser. After he’d disappeared for two days because he _needed some space,_ yeah, that would be a great time for Ray to get all clingy and invite him to give up what space he _had._

Patience. Ray could do patience; goddamn it, he _could_. He was not going to fuck everything up by pushing too hard, by asking too much too fast, by _being_ too much. If he hadn’t learned anything from the divorce, then what the hell business did he even have being here?

He took a breath and tried to remember what the hell he was supposed to be talking about right now. Right: Fraser, smelling things.

“That’s a big thing for you, isn’t it?” he asked. “How things. . .or people?. . .smell? Like, as important as what they look like? Maybe even moreso?”

“In some contexts,” Fraser told him. “Certainly, the smells have to align for a romantic relationship to have any hope of success.”

Ray snorted. “Well, I’m glad I passed the sniff-test, then.” He shifted around so he could reach to kiss Fraser’s neck, then nuzzled his hair which, okay, did smell nice now that Ray was thinking about it.

“So much so that, when I’m feeling anxious and can’t sleep, I take out your T-shirt and sniff at it. Then I feel like all manner of things shall be well.”

 _Ben gets anxious? It keeps him up at night?_ Ray bit his lip, wondering how the hell he hadn’t known that.

“What do you do when you’re here and you, um, can’t sleep?” Damn it, he was really going to have to get some control over the stuff that came out of his mouth.

“Smell you right here,” Fraser said, cupping the back of Ray’s neck. “And, in the rare event that it doesn’t work, I kiss you there. I thought you knew; I was sure you must’ve felt it from time to time, but perhaps I have a lighter touch than I realized.”

Ray rested his forehead against Fraser’s, making it easier for Fraser’s hand to keep lightly stroking the back of his neck.

“Perhaps you sleep right through it,” Fraser suggested. “Maybe it gives you better dreams. Maybe I can be your dreamcatcher.”

“Mmmm. . .” Ray sighed. With his eyes closed and Fraser’s soothing touch, it was easy to start drifting. . .he’d been so wired he’d barely noticed how exhausted he was, but now he was relaxed and cozy and Fraser was. . .was saying the kind of mushy stuff that no one had said to Ray since Stella had decided she was too sophisticated to talk like a Hallmark card. . .

“You can keep the. . .monsters away, huh? . . .don’t let the bedbugs. . .mm, something like that. . .”

“No bedbugs,” Fraser said soothingly. “No monsters. Not anymore.”

“. . .Oh, good. . .” Ray’s nightmares had never been about monsters; mostly they involved blood and dead bodies, or else they were just shadowy and empty and cold. . .but his tongue felt as heavy as the rest of him and it was too much trouble to explain. . .There was something important he needed to tell Fraser, though, if he could put together the words for it. . .or he could borrow some from Fraser, yeah, that was easier. . . “. . .Good. . .all manner of things. . .”

But if Fraser said anything back, Ray didn’t hear him, because Ray was gone.

 

 

                                    *                                  *                                  *

 

 

He woke up in the mostly-dark and mostly-quiet that meant sometime between two and four in the morning, with the sheets tangled around him and Fraser’s breath warm on the back of his neck. Soft touch of lips. . .felt nice. . .but something niggled in the back of his brain, demanding his attention.

“Mph?”

“Shh. Go back to sleep,” Fraser whispered.

“What is it?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“’Kay,” mumbled Ray, but he was awake enough now to know that wasn’t really true. “C’mere.”

He thrashed around to face Fraser, slung an arm over him and snuggled up with his head on Fraser’s shoulder, which got him an approving murmur in response. Fraser’s body didn’t feel especially tense as he held Ray, which was a good sign, but if he couldn’t sleep, there had to be something eating him. Not surprising, given the past couple of days; it would have been more surprising if Fraser had been feeling peachy.

He didn’t seem inclined to talk about it, though, which probably meant Ray had better not push. Fraser was normally big on the idea that talking about your problems made you feel better, except—Ray was starting to understand—not so much when it came to talking about his _own_ problems. And Fraser had already freaked himself out once by sharing some damn hard stuff with Ray. In fact, odds were good that he was still feeling vulnerable about laying his feelings open for Ray like that, and about needing what he needed, and letting Ray give it to him when Ray didn’t need it himself. . .which, fuck, probably felt more like putting himself in Ray’s power than the actual sex did.

Which was a scary place to be, especially given everything Fraser had been through. And Ray had tried so hard to keep his shit together and reassure Fraser—just like Fraser normally did for Ray, not to mention everyone else around him. He was pretty sure that had been the right thing to do, and he thought he’d done a decent job of it. But Fraser wasn’t used to being on the receiving end, so maybe now he was feeling like things were kind of. . .one-sided.

Ray didn’t know how to explain how totally not-true that was, though. Not without getting into stuff that Fraser maybe didn’t want to hear right now. . .or maybe wouldn’t like. . .and anyway he’d be lucky if he could even find the words to get his point across, and Jesus, why did this have to be so hard?

Well, so, all right: if Fraser were in Ray’s place right now, what would he do? Fraser always had the right words, and he was also good at that thing where you say what you want to say without coming right out and saying it in so many words. Maybe he could take a page out of Fraser’s book and. . . _Yeah, come to think of it_. . .

“I still owe you a bedtime story, don’t I?”

“That would be lovely, Ray.” Fraser sounded like he meant it. His fingers brushed over the short hair around Ray’s ear.

“Once upon a time,” Ray said slowly. “There was a. . .a poor woodcutter’s son who fell in love with a fairy princess. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, with rainbow-colored wings and golden hair. He found her caught in a thornbush, and he cut her free, and he built a wooden house for them to live in together, and they were happy together for a while. Except one day the fairy princess started looking sad. When he asked what was wrong, she said she missed her castle in the sky. So the woodcutter’s son went out and chopped some wood and built a fire so they could toast marshmallows together, and that made her smile.

“But it wasn’t long before she started getting sad again. So the woodcutter’s son made her a rocking chair to sit in and a necklace of wooden beads and a telescope to look at the stars. And each time, she’d be happy for a while, but it never lasted, and he’d come home and find her looking up at the sky, looking so sad.”

“He must have felt very frustrated and sad himself,” Fraser murmured sympathetically.

“Well, yeah, he was. He just didn’t know what else to do. So then one day, she told him, ‘I can’t stay here any more. I need to fly home to my castle in the sky. Come with me, and we can be happy together.’

“The woodcutter’s son said, ‘But I can’t fly. All I know how to do is make things out of wood. I built this house for you, to make you happy.’ And she said, ‘I know, but it isn’t a home, it’s a cage.’”

Ray paused to swallow; even now, even pretending like it was a fairy tale, remembering this part hurt more than he’d expected. He felt Fraser’s fingers gently stroking his hair.

“So, the next morning, the woodcutter’s son climbed to the top of the highest tree he could find. And when his fairy princess flew into the sky, he jumped up after her. But, of course, he didn’t have wings. So he fell, and smashed into the ground, and she flew away and left him behind.”

Fraser made a distressed sound. “How could he have recovered? Why didn’t she come back to at least help him up?” he demanded.

That was a question Ray had spent a lot of time wondering about in real life. But in real life, the answer was obvious and Fraser probably understood it better than Ray did. He wasn’t sure how to work that into the story, though.

“I think. . .she couldn’t,” he said. “The wind took her, and she couldn’t turn back. That’s how it works in fairy tales.”

And honestly, maybe Ray and Stella both would have been better off if she’d flown away to Florida or somewhere and they’d never seen each other again. Not that he’d felt that way at the time.

“I see,” Fraser said, sounding like maybe he did. “But the man. . .he must have been hard put even to move after that.”

“Yeah, he was. . .pretty messed up. But he managed to grab a fallen branch and use it as a walking stick to drag himself along. And after a while, he met a guy wandering in the forest, except he wasn’t really a guy, he was. . .um. . .what do you call those people who can be either a person or a seal?”

“Selkie?”

“Yeah, that sounds right. So the seal-guy said, ‘I’m lost in this forest, but you look like you’re in worse shape than I am. Come sit down by my fire and I’ll take care of you.’ So he gave the woodcutter’s son some food and herbs and stuff to help him heal up, and the woodcutter’s son made sure they always had wood for the fire to keep them warm. And after a while, the woodcutter’s son fell in love with the seal-guy. Which he hadn’t thought could happen to him again, but it did, so he built a new house for the two of them to live in.”

“I certainly hope the seal-guy loved him back and wasn’t simply taking advantage,” Fraser said with a laugh, planting a quick kiss on Ray’s head. “In fact, I know the seal-guy loved him back,” he whispered.

Smiling, Ray rubbed his cheek against Fraser’s chest.

“Yeah, the seal-guy loved him back. And they were happy together for a while. But then the seal-guy started looking sad. So the woodcutter’s son asked what was the matter, and the seal-guy told him he was missing his home, which was this island out across the ocean. The woodcutter’s son said, ‘I wish I could take you back there, but I don’t know how to swim. All I know how to do is make things out of wood.’ So the seal-guy said, ‘Okay, if you can’t come with me, I’ll stay here on shore with you, because I love you.’

“But see, the seal-guy had never lived on land before. He didn’t know what it would be like. And the woodcutter’s son couldn’t forget how the first house he built had turned into a cage.”

“And I suppose the seal-guy didn’t even really know about the dangers of houses becoming cages?” Fraser asked.

“Right. ‘Cause how could he know about that? What he did know was he wanted to live happily ever after with his, um. . .” What the hell did fairy-tale people call their boyfriends?

“His beloved?” Fraser offered. Ray smiled. Trust Fraser to come up with the right word. And it was a Fraser-y kind of word, too; the kind of thing he could say naturally even though no one else could get away with it straightfaced. Ray liked the sound of it.

“With his beloved. And so did the woodcutter’s son.”

“Mmmm,” Fraser encouraged, stroking the back of Ray’s neck. Ray sighed, relaxing under the touch.

“So anyway. . .the woodcutter’s son thought and thought and finally he went out and chopped down a tree and carved it into a boat for the two of them to get in and sail across the ocean together.”

Fraser settled Ray even closer against him. He started rocking slightly, so that their entwined bodies moved together, side to side.

“That sounds like a good journey,” he said.

“Well. . .Of course, it turned out that the seal-guy knew how to swim and the woodcutter knew how to build boats, but neither of them really knew how to sail. But they were able to work together to keep the ship from sinking as they sailed across the ocean.” Which, for a metaphor Ray had mostly pulled out of his ass, worked out pretty neatly. “So yeah, in the end, it was good.”

Fraser seemed heavy into the whole pretending-to-be-on-a-tiny-boat thing, holding on like Ray really was in danger of falling into the ocean.

“I’m sure if there were a storm or other unfortunate maritime event, the seal-guy could always dive overboard and help stabilize the boat until the waters smoothed out,” he said.

“Yeah. And he knew all about the ocean and how to keep away from rocks and sharks and. . .and how to navigate out there, to show the woodcutter’s son where to steer so they could get where they were going. Came in real handy.”

Ray kissed Fraser under the chin.

“And they lived happily ever after,” he murmured. Because maybe Ray couldn’t predict the future, maybe he had no business making a promise like that when he didn’t know if he could keep it, but fuck all that. Ray was damned well stepping up to the plate and giving it his best swing.

“Happily ever after,” Fraser repeated softly as he shifted them into spooning position, his front pressed against Ray’s back. He nuzzled Ray’s hair. “I like the sound of that.”


	3. Act III

Tuesday morning, Ray wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but Fraser seemed okay enough after the discussion the night before. At least he hadn’t run back to the Consulate. The only variation in their normal routine for mornings after Fraser slept over was the way Fraser kept peering out the window and sniffing and ‘ahhing.’ Then he made lemonade.

“What, life give you lemons?” Ray asked as he drank his coffee.

“You’ll thank me later,” Fraser promised.

Ray wasn’t awake enough yet to want to mess with Fraser when he was being harmlessly eccentric. Besides, it seemed like a sign that he was feeling more like his normal self, which was reassuring. So Ray just left him to it and concentrated on getting enough caffeine into his system to be able to cope with rush-hour traffic.

They picked up Dief on the way to the station and then spent the rest of the day tracking down witnesses for Fraser to sweet-talk and then going back to the station to make notes on the results of said sweet-talk, then mooting ideas for what it all meant, which at this stage in the case was slightly above squat yet not quite up to diddly. Overall, it wasn’t a total waste of a day, but not much was accomplished for Truth, Justice and the North American Way by the time they called it quits and swung by Golden Country for dinner.

Ray had barely noticed the day getting hotter and hotter, kind of like the frog stuck in the gradually boiling pot. Until he walked into his apartment, at which point the heat smacked him hard and he felt like the frog thrown straight into boiling water.

“I see why you made lemonade,” he gasped at Fraser. “You want a glass?”

“God, yes.”

“Be a little better once we get the windows open,” Ray said as he headed for the kitchen. “Used to have an A/C unit but it croaked last year and I didn’t get around to replacing it ’cause it was already September, so where was the point? But we can—I’ll get a new one. If I hustle I can do it before everyone else in the world starts lining up to do the same thing.”

He almost tripped over Dief, who had followed him into the kitchen and was lurking by his feet, looking longingly at the fridge.

“Sorry, nothing in there for you, pal.”

Dief gave his best pathetic whimper. Ray didn’t blame him one bit, because the heat was just about killing _him_ and he wasn’t wearing a full-body fur coat. The wolf dragged himself over to the window, then looked back at Ray expectantly.

“Okay if I let the furball out?” Ray called.

“Please do,” Fraser called back. “I expect he’ll be more comfortable outdoors.”

It was just as well, Ray figured as he let Dief out onto the fire escape. He’d been thinking about maybe trying to see if Fraser was feeling up for sex tonight: nothing too fancy, just something to ease them back into the groove and make sure they really were okay again. And he just always felt weird about putting the moves on Fraser in front of Dief, so having the wolf out of the picture was convenient. Except, at the moment, Ray was feeling too crushed by the heat to want to _move_ , let alone do anything complicated or athletic.

He came back out into the living room with a glass in each hand and stopped to watch Fraser, who had shucked off his red tunic and ruffled up his hair, and was now carefully rolling back the sleeves of his Henley. Ray always loved watching him get casual like that, not just because he looked sexy in his shirtsleeves and suspenders, but because he did it in such a Fraser-y way. It cracked Ray up when Fraser treated what was basically his undershirt with such precision instead of just shoving the cuffs up his forearms like anyone else would.

But the sight of Fraser’s bare forearms wiped the grin right off Ray’s face. Vivid bruises ringed Fraser’s right wrist, the marks where the rope had chafed him unmistakable, and as he took off his watch with a contented smile, Ray could see that his left wrist was even more roughed-up.

Ray swallowed, trying to shake off the weird jittery feeling that gave him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known it might happen, but there was something about seeing those ropeburns here, in the daylight, with Fraser pushing up his sleeves so casually, that just. . .got to him. Which was dumb, was what it was. He dragged his eyes up from Fraser’s hands to his face.

Smiling at Ray, Fraser reached for his glass. Ray got a smile onto his own face and raised his glass in a mock-toast. He couldn’t help glancing at Fraser’s wrist again as Fraser closed his eyes and took a gulp of lemonade. It really wasn’t so bad. Fraser probably couldn’t even feel it any more, and anyway he’d _wanted_ it that way. He certainly didn’t look like his wrists were bothering him.

“Aren’t you glad I. . .” Fraser had opened his eyes as he spoke, and his voice trailed off when he noticed where Ray’s attention was. Meanwhile, it took Ray a second to realize that Fraser was still talking about lemonade and not the other night.

“Yeah, lemonade, great idea,” he said hastily, putting down his glass harder than he meant to—it banged against the table, sloshing lemonade almost over the rim. Fraser jumped slightly; his eyes flicked up to Ray’s face, almost like they were in a firefight or something, with that look of combined curiosity, caution and concentration that he often got on the job.

Great, now Ray was State’s Fucking Evidence A; no way Fraser wasn’t going to figure out what he was thinking.

He turned sharply away and strode to the window, muttering, “Jesus, place is a fucking oven.”

But this was the window that was really hard to open because the building had settled or something, so the angles of the frame weren’t quite true any more. At least wrestling with the bastard thing gave him an excuse not to look at Fraser while he tried to get ready to act like a mature grown-up who saw worse bruises every day on half the people who walked into the station. He cursed under his breath, jamming his shoulder against the frame as he yanked at the sash, which didn’t budge.

“Do you require assistance?” asked Fraser, who was suddenly behind him. “Perhaps you could take the right side and I’ll take the left?”

Ray jumped, nearly cracking his head on the window frame.

“It’s fine, I’ve got it,” he snapped, rattling the sash, which of course still refused to move.

Fraser instantly backed off with an agreeable–sounding, “Of course.”

“Fuck.” The window shot up hard enough to rattle the glass. A sluggish, hot breeze drifted across Ray’s stomach as he leaned his forehead against the wood.

“Sorry,” he muttered. It wasn’t Fraser’s fault Ray was acting like a spaz.

“It’s all right,” Fraser said, sounding vaguely worried now. “Why don’t you sit down and have some more lemonade? Dehydration never helps.”

“I’m not dehydrated, just. . .” Ray shrugged. “Being a jerk for no reason.” And he didn’t have to make even more of an asshole of himself by picking a fight over lemonade. So he went over and plopped himself down on the couch next to Fraser, drained half his glass, then turned to him with raised eyebrows.  “Better?”

“Do you feel better?” Fraser asked.  

Closing his eyes, Ray rubbed the cool glass against his cheeks and forehead, which at least helped some with the heat.

“I’m fine. I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“The last two days or so would make anyone testy,” Fraser said neutrally.

“Hey, no.”  Ray put the glass down and put his hand on Fraser’s shoulder, looking him in the face. “I’m not mad at you or anything like that, honest.  I’m just. . .I’m just being dumb, is what it is.  Don’t worry about it.”  But he couldn’t help stealing a look at Fraser’s wrist where it rested in his lap, like a kid peeking at the screen during the scary parts of a horror movie.

Fraser’s eyes followed Ray’s.

“Would it help to tell you that it looks worse than it feels?” he asked quietly.

Ray glanced back at Fraser’s face, worried that Fraser was going to freak out about Ray freaking out, but also weirdly relieved that now they’d _have_ to talk about it.

“Not really,” he said. “I mean, I’m glad it’s not worse, but. . .it’s not even that it looks so bad.  I don’t know why it’s bugging me.  It’s not like I didn’t know that was going to happen.”

Fraser thought for a moment.

“How could you have known that was going to happen?” he finally asked, using his right hand to gesture at his left wrist.

“’Cause. . .’cause we _talked_ about it, you warned me and I said it was okay, I frigging pushed you into it.”

Fraser frowned.

“I thought it was rather the opposite,” he said thoughtfully.

Ray shook his head sharply.

“You didn’t push me into anything.  I knew what I was getting into.  I just. . .I didn’t think about what it was going to look like. . .or I didn’t think it was going to bug me. . .I don’t know.”

“Well, you did give me free rein on choosing the restraints,” Fraser said, considering his wrists. “Do you. . .did I take advantage of that?”

“You did exactly what I wanted you to do.  Don’t _worry_ about it.”

“Don’t _worry_ about it?   _I_ did exactly what _I_ wanted to do.  What about you and what you wanted?  How am I not supposed to _worry_ about that?” Fraser demanded, startling Ray with his sudden vehemence.

“No, that’s not—” Ray took a breath and lowered his voice, but he was too antsy to sit still; his foot jiggled nervously against the bottom of the couch. “Okay, no, you’re right, I don’t mean you shouldn’t worry about what I want.  I’m just, I’m telling you, with this—tying you up, I mean—we _did_ do what I wanted.  Okay?  It was my idea, I’d thought about it, it wasn’t just something I pulled out of my butt.  And with the ropes, when you brought that up, how it might hurt your wrists, I thought about that, too, and I figured I’d be fine with it.  And I _was_ fine with it.”  He punched his thigh softly in frustration. “It was _fine_.”

“It _was_ fine,” Fraser said flatly.

“It _is_ fine,” Ray shot back. “Nothing _happened_ , I mean nothing that wasn’t supposed to. Nothing’s _changed_.  And I ain’t sorry we did it.”  He crossed his arms and looked straight into Fraser’s eyes.

Fraser frowned. For a second, he looked like he was going to see Ray’s challenge and raise it, but then he let out a breath and seemed to deliberately calm himself down and make an effort to actually listen.

“All right. You aren’t sorry for what we did,” he said carefully, obviously turning Ray’s words over in his mind. “But seeing lingering physical evidence is still disturbing to you?”

“I said it was dumb.”  Ray shrugged again.

“Feelings aren’t ever ‘dumb,’ Ray,” Fraser said gently, still frowning a little. “Illogical, sometimes, of course, that’s why they’re feelings.  But not stupid or invalid.”

“But that’s the thing.”  Ray shook his head. “There really isn’t anything to get freaked out about. I’m just being stupid.  And I don’t know _why_.  I mean, they don’t even look that bad; you could get worse than that playing pick-up basketball.”

“And if that were what we had been doing, would you even notice?”

Ray opened his mouth, then shut it.

“Well. . .sure, I’d notice. Especially now that I, uh, see you naked now and then. But I’d probably assume it was no big deal. Or I’d ask if you were okay and you’d say yes and that would be that. It wouldn’t bug me.”

“So why are you concerned now?” Fraser asked gently.

“I ain’t _concerned_ ,” Ray corrected him. “I mean, I guess maybe I should be, but. . .Hell, I get worse than that every other week and so do you. And you seem okay, you don’t seem like you’re hurting.  Or—or, not in a way you mind, anyhow.”

Although, saying it like that made Ray feel bad that he hadn’t really checked that Fraser was okay afterwards.  Because yeah, he’d seemed fine and dandy, but it wasn’t like Fraser ever admitted he was hurting, even when he was; you had to pry the information out of him. And Ray hadn’t bothered to make sure. . .although, to be fair, Fraser being so obviously not-okay emotionally had trumped the whole question of scraped-up wrists pretty hard.

“I _don’t_ mind as long as you don’t,” Fraser said.

“I. . .don’t _want_ to mind,” Ray said slowly. “Obviously I do kind of mind, yeah, but it ain’t. . .I don’t. . . _objec_ _t_ , you know what I mean?  It’s like, I know in my head it’s okay, but my gut ain’t listening.”

Fraser carefully put his hands at his side, almost out of sight.

“It’s your gut you need to listen to, Ray,” he said gently. “And if it’s telling you, if you’re telling you that something is wrong, then something is wrong, one way or another.”

Ray snorted.

“Since when are you the guy who thinks it’s all about instinct?” he asked, giving Fraser a little teasing smile. “That’s supposed to be my line.”

“This isn’t about logic,” Fraser said, smiling back at him. “So I guess that means this is your purview.”

“Okay, okay, fine.”  Ray got up and started pacing back and forth; it was easier to think that way. “So, what the hell is Ray getting his shorts in a knot about?  We got evidence says there’s something going on, but what is it?”  He halted, facing Fraser. “Nah, see, here’s where we need Mr. Logic to help us come up with some kind of story.  Lay it all out so it makes sense.  Connect the dots.”

“Okay,” Fraser said. “Here’s the evidence: Benton Fraser has marks on his wrists.”  Fraser held up his hands: let the evidence be entered into the record. “And in other places. But most evidently, on his wrists. Said marks having been placed there, with his knowledge and consent in the midst of a sexual encounter that he much enjoyed.”  He looked at Ray.

“And also with Ray Kowalski’s knowledge and consent,” Ray added. “In fact, he was the one who suggested it, even though he mostly isn’t cool with hurting, uh, said Benton Fraser, because it seemed like. . .like something that would be okay.  Something he could handle.  Which it was. If I was worrying about anything when we were. . .doing it, it wasn’t about the ropes cutting you.”

“What were you worrying about?” Fraser asked quietly.

 _Damn it_.  Ray probably shouldn’t have said that, but too late now.  He closed his eyes, frowning, trying to remember how he’d felt on Saturday night, with Fraser tied to the bed under him. . .

“I wasn’t, mostly.”  Not like Fraser was asking about, anyway.  Scrambling to figure out what to do, yes. And sure, there had been some frustrating parts and a couple of almost-screw-ups, but none of that had freaked him out, had it? “Except maybe. . .but that didn’t have anything to do with the ropes, and it was just for a second anyway.”

“Maybe it did,” said Fraser, in his taming-the-witness voice. “Maybe it didn’t seem like much at the time, seemed fleeting and unimportant, but what was it?”

“Well. . .”  Ray ran his hand over his jaw. He’d already brought it up, so he had to spill now. “When I grabbed you.” He reached over and traced the base of Fraser’s throat with his fingertips. Fraser took a sharp little breath and his eyes went wide. “I knew I wasn’t hurting you, but you looked. . .for a second it was like I was choking you.  Which, I mean, I wasn’t, it was fine, and you seemed to like it, and. . .”  He shrugged, feeling like an idiot.

“Whether I liked it or not is not relevant, considering that my enjoyment was at the expense of your boundaries,” Fraser said, his voice going sharp again.

“My boundaries?” Ray echoed, confused.

“Your stated limitations of what you are and are not willing to do,” Fraser reminded him, as if Ray’s grasp of the English language was the problem, here. “And not stopping that from happening.  It was. . .  I was carried away, completely in the moment, but that’s no excuse for taking advantage.”

“Wait, what?  What are you—?  Nothing got advantaged—disadvantaged—no borders got breached, damn it.  What are you talking about?”

“Back when we first negotiated our most basic boundaries and limits, you said,” Fraser cocked his head to one side as he pulled the memory out. “That you were willing to use a gag or other means that would prevent me from speaking but ‘as long as you don’t mean choking you or something’.”

Ray frowned, thinking back to those conversations from a couple of weeks ago. He’d said he didn’t want to _beat_ Fraser, but they hadn’t talked about a lot of other specifics. . .but okay, yeah, maybe he’d said. . .

“Yeah, I remember saying something like that.” He didn’t remember a big discussion about it or anything, though. As far as he remembered, Fraser had asked him about gags, and Ray had mostly just wanted to make sure he wasn’t giving the okay to something that. . .wasn’t okay.

Fraser looked away, seeming a little ashamed.

“I knew that but I let you do it anyway. I should have called a halt when I realized what was going on, but I was. . .Well, I’m not sure how I could’ve stopped it, but I should have.”

“Hey, no.”  Ray squeezed Fraser’s hand between both of his. “I was the one doing it in the first place, I was the one who maybe was going to be bothered by it, how does that make it your job to stop it?”

Fraser did that take-a-breath-and-calm-down thing again before saying evenly, “People get carried away. Someone should be thinking clearly.  And just as it’s your responsibility to know what my limits are and respect them, I have the same obligation.”

“Well, sure, but. . .it’s not like you did anything in the first place.  I mean, if there was any line-crossing going on, it was me doing it.  Not that there was,” Ray maintained, because he _was_ sure he hadn’t done anything wrong, although the way Fraser was talking was making him twitchy.

Fraser sighed, but he seemed a little less tense than before, at least. Maybe he was actually listening.

“You quite specifically said you didn’t want to do something, it ended up happening and I just. . .let it happen.”

“But it _didn’t_ happen,” Ray protested. “I said I wasn’t okay with choking you, but I didn’t choke you.  I didn’t even really think I’d come close.  I knew where my hand was. I know the difference between that and the real thing.”

Fraser frowned, but not like he was mad, more like he was trying to figure something out.

“What is the ‘real thing’?”

Ray couldn’t tell if Fraser really didn’t get what he was saying—which seemed pretty obvious to him, but maybe it wasn’t to Fraser? Or maybe Fraser understood just fine, and was doing that thing he sometimes did, where he asked questions he already knew the answers to, just to make you work it out for yourself. Either way, spelling it out couldn’t hurt.

“All right, listen: when I put my hand on you.” Ray laid his hand at the base of his own throat. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!”  Fraser exclaimed. “God, no, Ray, you—” He broke off. “You didn’t hurt me. At all.”

“Good.” Ray nodded and ticked off the point on one of his fingers. “Did I interfere with your breathing?”

That one actually got a faint smile from Fraser.

“I seem to recall having some breathing difficulties, but they were not due to your constricting my airways.”

Ray couldn’t help smirking a little at that.

“Okay, good.”  He ticked off another finger. “Did I—no, you know what, I know damn well I didn’t put my hand anywhere it was going to maybe damage you on accident.” But he looked at Fraser for confirmation as he held up the third finger.

“I concur,” Fraser said. “But even if you had, I trust you.”

That stopped Ray’s momentum for a second.  

“Thank you,” he said quietly, still looking Fraser in the eyes. “So, um, anyway.  If none of those things happened, then I didn’t choke you.”

“So,” Fraser said, “You meant that literally choking me, that was your hard limit?”

“Yeah.  What did you think I meant?”

“I took a conservative interpretation. I thought you didn’t want to engage in any kind of pseudo-choking behavior, such as using a chokehold or threatening to strangle me, or anything involving breathplay.”

“Breathplay?” The word was a new one on Ray, and obviously Fraser meant something pretty specific by it. “That means, what, cutting off someone’s air?”

“Essentially, although of course not to a fatal degree. However, the term refers to whole range of activities and degrees of severity.”

“Like what? Putting plastic bags over people’s heads, stuff like that?”  

“Some people take a more aesthetic approach but, basically, yes.”

Ray couldn’t figure what kind of look someone would be going for in that kind of a situation, other than ‘helpless victim,’ which, ugh.

“Pretty plastic bags?” he suggested.

Fraser actually laughed out loud.  

“In a manner of speaking, I suppose that’s what it comes down to,” he said. “The overall effect is the same, though: asphyxiation as a sexual stimulus.”

“Well, that’s kind of a lot of territory you were including, there,” Ray said slowly. “I can see why you figured you’d better play it safe, but when I said that, about not wanting to choke you. . .I wasn’t thinking about. . .such a big range of stuff, I guess. I mean, I wasn’t even really thinking about it as drawing a line. Not formally. I meant what I said, but at the time, we were talking about what I _was_ okay with. And you were asking about gags, not. . .rough stuff. So I wasn’t thinking about it in that detailed kind of way, like a rule for you to follow.  And so I guess I _didn’t_ make it clear where the line was, really.”

“It was at least a much a case of my assuming that you knew what it meant, and that _I_ knew what you meant. Or perhaps I was unwilling to seek further clarification. But I hope you better understand why I’m concerned that I may have encouraged you to violate your own boundaries.”

“Yeah, I get that. And if I was thinking about it at all, which I wasn’t really, I assumed you knew what I meant, too. Which is dumb, because you’re real smart, but you’re not a mind-reader. Right?” Ray gave Fraser’s foot a little nudge with his own.

“I have, on occasion been known to use observation to gain perspectives on certain situations. . .” Fraser interrupted himself and smiled at Ray. “No.  Not in the slightest.”

“Which means you’re allowed to ask,” Ray told him. “But it also means that it ain’t your job to call if I’m getting too close to the line. My own line, I mean. That’s my call.”

Fraser seemed to think that over for a little while.

“That’s true,” he finally said. “But remember when we talked about check-ins?”

“Yeah. . .”

“Perhaps you don’t have the same kinds of endorphins that I get from a scene, but you also might get carried away in the moment and do something you might later regret. As you say, making sure that doesn’t happen is your responsibility, but I would also be irresponsible if I didn’t make sure you were all right after trying something new.”

“Which you’re doing now,” Ray pointed out. “And which I. . .obviously I kind of need, here, even if I maybe don’t always want to think so.”

“Perhaps I’ve been taking on too much, though,” Fraser said. “As you say, the initial responsibility really should be yours, with me available to provide additional help or support if you need it. Safety goes both ways, after all.”

Ray nodded, trying not to look surprised at getting that kind of concession from Fraser, and also trying to squash the surge of resentful panic that felt like when he was six and his dad let go of his bicycle that first time after Ray had been insisting that he was ready. Because Fraser wasn’t hanging Ray out to dry, he was trusting him to do his job, just like Ray wanted.

“Okay.”  Ray laid his hand lightly against the back of Fraser’s neck and caressed him behind the ear with his thumb. “And. . .listen.  I like it how you. . .you’ve got my back, even when we’re. . .in the scene. But there’s times when you’re _not_ going to be thinking clearly, and that’s okay, that’s part of the point. And I want you to know that I know that and I know that it’s my job to have _your_ back when that happens. To be on watch.” Really, that was pretty much the _whole_ point of doing this stuff, if Ray thought about it from that angle.

Fraser leaned into Ray’s touch, relaxing and closing his eyes. His expression went kind of dreamy, like Ray was massaging his neck instead of just touching it. . .or, yeah, like he was slipping into his happy sex place, like he sometimes did just from talking about it. Even though they weren’t even talking about actual sex hardly at all.

But before Ray could really think about what to do about that, Fraser pulled himself back together, straightening up a little.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that. . .the back of the neck. . .touching it, I mean, can be a kind of signal.  You hardly need me to tell you that the neck and throat are particularly vulnerable parts of the human anatomy.  Allowing someone to touch the throat is a particularly strong symbol of trust, part of the psychosexual appeal of that kind of activity.”

Ray swallowed, suddenly hyper-conscious of the feel of Fraser’s skin under his palm and the throb of his own pulse below his jaw. He hadn’t meant anything—well, he hadn’t meant _that_ , anyway—for Christ’s sake, he touched Fraser like that all the time, it didn’t mean he was trying to _do_ anything to him. But now. . .if he could almost put Fraser under, just with a touch, as easy as that. . .if Fraser trusted him that much. . . 

He felt himself flushing as he stared at Fraser’s bare throat, tempted to slide his hand around to the front and touch the soft skin there, feel Fraser’s heartbeat underneath, his muscles relaxed under Ray’s fingers. But no, what the hell was he thinking? He’d just finished saying he didn’t want to choke Fraser, so, what, he was going to turn around and. . .what?

 _Jesus._ He pulled his hand away, too quickly, almost clumsily, then wasn’t sure what to do with it and ended up nervously rubbing the back of his own head.

He _wasn’t_ thinking, and that was a problem, because this was thinking time, here, and mixing sex with serious conversations just got you into trouble later, when it turned out you’d forgotten to finish saying the important stuff, or worse, said stuff that wasn’t what the other person heard at all because you were both too horny to pay attention at the time.

“Is that. . . ?”  He cleared his throat. “You like that kind of activity, then?  Having someone choke you? For real?”

“It’s not without a certain kind of appeal,” Fraser said carefully. “But it’s not, generally speaking, my favorite thing.”

That was a relief to hear, but Ray couldn’t tell how much Fraser was lowballing because he was afraid of creeping Ray out. At least a little, probably, because that was pretty much Fraser’s standard operating procedure. And because. . .if Fraser had only been talking about the back of the neck just now, he wouldn’t have said _throat_.

“What kind of appeal?” Ray asked.

“Well,” Fraser said, obviously choosing his words carefully. “The hypoxia can create a physical sensation completely apart from any emotional context being experienced.”

“Yeah, like kind of a high?” Ray knew about that, in theory; even middle school kids knew about it, which is why they sometimes played around trying to make themselves hyperventilate. It was also why you sometimes got accidental suicide-by-plastic-bag. “Dangerous way to get a rush, though.”

“Indeed,” Fraser agreed. “But when more than one person is present, and knowledgeable and capable, the risks can be reduced to almost nil.”

Ray bit back the urge to ask if that was _almost nil_ on a normal person’s scale or on the scale of someone who routinely jumped out of moving vehicles. He noticed he was crossing his arms and uncrossed them again; the last thing he wanted right now was to look angry, especially since he wasn’t.

“I’ll take your word for it.” And damn it, that sounded like he was picking a fight. He licked his lips and tried again. “So, you—you like that part of it?”

Fraser shrugged. “The one time I did it, the sheer physical sensation was overwhelming. But when I came around after, I immediately said ‘that was the best thing I’ve ever done that I never want to do again’.”

Ray frowned, confused. “How come?”

“Hmm. For me, the intersection of sex and the poorly guarded border was, in retrospect, a little too on the nose to the very same events that led to my sexual explorations. So it was intensely pleasurable, but not something I’d want to do regularly or, for that matter, at all.”

 _Poorly guarded. . .oh, right._ Ray didn’t even want to think about that.

“Um.  Okay. Good.”  He winced, hoping Fraser wouldn’t take that as _approval_ or some kind of attempt to order him around outside the bedroom.  Until they’d started this whole submissive sex thing, Ray had never noticed just how often he said the word _good_ , but now he kept tripping over it.

“But what you did, putting your hand on my throat, didn’t feel like that at all.  It felt like. . .” Fraser broke off.  If he was having trouble finding words to explain it, that must mean that it had got to him pretty deep down. “It was about the fact that you had that power over me, and I trusted you with it.  I didn’t feel any kind of panic or reservation, I just . . .trusted you.”

Jesus, and _that_ made Ray itch even more to touch Fraser’s throat.  He had to make a conscious effort to keep his hands still, and even so, he couldn’t shake the image of running his palms up the sides of Fraser’s throat. . .which suddenly mutated into a much uglier image of his hands _wrapped_ around Fraser’s neck, thumbs pressing right _there_. . .

He swallowed hard against the cold squirming in his gut.

“Are you all right, Ray?”  Fraser asked.  

“Yeah, no, I’m fine.  I just. . .”  Ray shrugged, trying to clear his head. It was okay, he wasn’t going to do anything like that, Fraser didn’t even _want_ him to. Nothing to lose his shit over.

“But there’s clearly something that’s still bothering you,” Fraser persisted. “About that moment?”

“Well. . .I don’t know, I’m not feeling bad about it _now_ , or at least I wasn’t until we started talking about how I was feeling about it _then_.  I mean. . .it’s not. . .”  Ray scrubbed his hands through his hair, frustrated that he couldn’t find the right words. “It was the way it _looked_. That’s all.”

“Ah,” Fraser said. “Like when you saw my wrists, days later, only more immediate?”

“I—yeah, actually. It felt a lot like that. Only, because with the—the choking thing, I was _doing_ it when it hit me what it looked like, so that was kind of. . .” He waved his hand in a circle. “More intense. But. . .mixed up with everything else that was going on at the time, you know?”

“What do you mean by ‘everything else’?”

“Um, you know, the good stuff.” Ray ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat up. “You were—you were really into it and I—and that was really hot, and—and then for a second it was like. . .I couldn’t tell if I was blowing your mind or—or—beating you up. I mean, I knew in my head what was going on,” he added hastily. “But it. . .that’s how it looked.”

“Well, in case you still have any doubts, my mind was indeed blown. In an entirely positive way.” Fraser smiled briefly at him. “But it did bother you in the moment, yet you didn’t stop.”

“I. . .” Ray shook his head. _Stop?_ It hadn’t even crossed his mind, not in the middle of all that. “Like I said, it was just a quick thing. I don’t think I even had time to think about stopping before it wasn’t happening any more.”

“By ‘it’ you mean you were no longer troubled, or you had moved your hand elsewhere?”

“Both. I think. It’s hard to remember exactly. I’ve, um, had a lot of other stuff on my mind since then.”  That whole night seemed like a million years ago, in fact.

“How did it seem like you were beating me up? By which I don’t mean to suggest that any feeling you had was illegitimate in some way, but I am curious about how you phrased it.”

“Well, not beating you up like hitting you, but. . .but strangling someone, that’s a serious fighting move. Like punching or kicking or whatever. You do it to take the other guy down. Damage him.” Ray hugged himself, feeling his muscles knot up just talking about it. “I don’t want to do that to you. Not in bed and not out of it.”

“So, to you, however briefly, it seemed like an act of violence?”

Ray nodded slowly. “Yeah. I mean, but it wasn’t really. I know that.”

“Knowing and feeling, though, are not always the same thing. And I think it’s worth talking about your feelings.”

“Yeah, no, this is. . .helping. ‘Cause my gut and my brain don’t always talk to each other. So I don’t always know what I know, until I have to say it. You know?”

“I’m aware of the. . .phenomenon.” Ray could tell Fraser was being tactful here, but that was okay; this was a great time for some tact and TLC. “Did it feel like a flashback of some kind? Perhaps to something related to our work?”

“Don’t think it was so specific like that. I just—” Ray shrugged. “I’m not okay with mixing sex and violence, that’s all.”

“Most people aren’t,” Fraser said. “And the ones who are. . .well, the community tries to be self-policing and rejects people who are too enthusiastic about actual violence.”

“But there’s people who will hurt you for fun. Hit you.  Choke you.  Go a lot further than we’ve gone.” There were people out there who _had_ done that stuff to Fraser, because he wanted it. _You could hit me anywhere,_ Ray remembered Fraser offering. Except he couldn’t.

Fraser frowned, but it was his thinking frown, not his disapproval frown.

“Yes, there are people like that. And people who enjoy being treated that way, but only in a safe, contained environment, with established rules and protocols. That doesn’t mean that lines are never crossed, however. Did you. . .do you think you crossed a line?”

Ray shook his head.

“No. I didn’t do anything. Anything violent, I mean. And I didn’t. . .” He closed his eyes, trying to remember how he’d felt. Frustration, wanting to make Fraser respond, to push him, to _make_ him. . . He shook his head sharply. “I didn’t do it to hurt you. Or punish you. That wasn’t what it was about.”

“I didn’t think it was. Not for a second.” Fraser’s answer was immediate and sincere. “And apparently you didn’t think so either, except for a few difficult seconds, if I understood you correctly.”

Ray nodded, feeling surprisingly relieved even though he hadn’t thought Fraser _had_ taken it that way[.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1237690/chapters/2543803/edit#_msocom_39)

“How did you think about it when you did it?” Fraser asked.

“I was trying to. . .to make you feel like. . .like I was in control. . .like I was making you do what I—what I wanted.” Jesus, it was hard to say, even knowing that Fraser had wanted that, that he’d gotten off on it. Ray made himself meet Fraser’s eyes, and that was hard, too.

“You _were_ making me do what you wanted. As it seemed to me, then and now, you _were_ in control, in both the sense of controlling the encounter and in control of your actions.”

“I. . .yeah. Yes.” That felt right, like when a random clue slotted into place to form a solid theory. “I maybe didn’t always know the right thing to do, but I always knew what I was doing. And I knew what I was doing when I put my hand on you. It just surprised me, how it looked. And. . .and maybe it felt a little. . .close to somewhere I didn’t want to go. But I didn’t go there.”

“You’re not that man,” Fraser said with conviction. “You won’t go there. Ever. That’s how I know I can safely submit to you.”

Ray felt like he’d taken a punch to the solar plexus: breath knocked out of him, throat tight, eyes stinging. Fraser could just say stuff like that, so sure that it was true, and it was like you didn’t have any choice except to believe it yourself. And it was so tempting to just let himself believe that he was the man Fraser said he was. He wanted so badly to be what Fraser believed in. But. . .

“You can’t know that.” He forced the words out.

“I know _you_ ,” Fraser said firmly.

That was as true as anything Ray could think of. Fraser knew Ray better in some ways than Ray knew himself.

“And you know I hit you once already,” he said, staring down at his hands. “For real. By the lake.”

“Once being the operative word,” Fraser said. “It wasn’t as though you planned it in advance, and you felt so guilty about having done it that you were willing to sacrifice our partnership, our _friendship_ , in recompense. And perhaps out of the fear that it might happen again.”

“I did. I do. Feel bad about it, I mean. Don’t ever want to do something like that again. But I didn’t plan to do it the first time, either, like you said. So how—how can you know?”

“You found out how it felt,” Fraser said. He sounded so sure of everything he was saying. “Do you ever want to feel that way again?”

“You think I’m good at not doing things that make me feel bad?” Ray would have laughed at that if he hadn’t felt so twisted up inside. “I know you know me better than that.”

“All right then,” Fraser said. “Think of it this way: what do you think I would do if you ever hit me like that again? Or took advantage of my being immobilized to hurt me because you were genuinely angry with me?”

“Leave me,” Ray answered instantly. He had to close his eyes against the cold, sick feeling that thought gave him. “Or anyway you should.”

“That’s right. I might or might not hit you back, but I would leave you. It would be hard, the hardest thing I’ve ever done, probably, but I wouldn’t stand for that kind of abuse.”

Part of Ray felt relieved to hear Fraser say so, even though he hadn’t thought for a second that Fraser _would_ put up with that kind of abuse. . .although come to think of it, after that whole story about Victoria Metcalf, maybe Ray _should_ have worried. A bigger part of him wanted to protest: _I never, I would never, it wasn’t like that, I never want to hurt you._ But he didn’t have the right to protest, and anyway, Fraser wasn’t accusing him. A third part of him was desperately trying to think of what he could say to make this all right, not even sure how he’d gotten here in the first place. He told all those parts of himself to simmer down so he could hear himself think.

“That’s not why you trust me, though,” he said slowly. “Not ’cause you think I’m afraid of the consequences.”

“No,” Fraser said, taking one of Ray’s hands in both of his. “I trust you because you’re a good man, Ray. Of course you get angry about things you can’t change, or think you can’t change. So do I. But that doesn’t make either of us abusive.”

The way Fraser dealt with being angry was miles away from the way Ray dealt with it—or failed to deal with it, which was the point. But Fraser was offering him a way out of the swamp, and it wasn’t like Ray _wanted_ to convince either one of them that he was no good. Fraser’s trust was a gift, and Ray would just damn well have to live up to it, or die trying.

“I’m not. . .I’m _not_ that guy,” he said. “But I. . .you know what I’m like. Temper, don’t always think before I do shit. So I’m. . .I always been a little too close to that line where. . .I screw up, I might turn _into_ that guy. Which is the last thing in the world I want to be. And I always—I been careful. To keep away from that line. Even when—always. But. So I—I think maybe that’s part of what freaks me out so much, when I think about bringing anything violent in here, or even anything close.”

He was shaking by the time he finished talking, one arm wrapped around his ribs like maybe he could keep himself together that way, the other hand still pressed between Fraser’s calm ones.

Fraser squeezed Ray’s hand. He probably meant the gesture to be reassuring, but he looked almost scared.

“What we. . .what I like. . .does it make you feel that way? Out of control? Too close to that line?”

And maybe Fraser being scared should have freaked Ray out more, but what it actually did was make him want to reassure _Fraser_ , so he took a deep breath as he unwrapped his hand from around his ribs and laid it on top of Fraser’s upper one.

“Nothing we’ve done scares me like that,” he said. “I never—all that stuff I’ve said when we were. . .in a scene. . .it was never ‘cause I was actually mad at you. You know that, right?”

Fraser smiled hesitantly. “I took the liberty of assuming as much, yes.”

“And the scary stuff, the stuff that’s too close to—to the bad place—we’ve stayed away from that. ’Cause that’s the whole point of all this boundary-drawing stuff in the first place. I haven’t been bullshitting you about what I’m willing to do, Ben, I swear.”

“And you’ve been mindful of the safety protocols we have in place. They are, after all, in place for both our sakes.”

Ray thought about that for a second. Mostly when he was consciously thinking about safety and rules and stuff, it was about making sure Fraser was okay. But he remembered silently checking in when Fraser started crying, which, sure, that had been taking care of Fraser, but it had also made Ray feel better. Sure that he hadn’t accidentally crossed a line or done something wrong.

And the thing with having to say those specific words to start a scene, too. It felt weird and awkward, but it was more than just a way to make sure they were both on board. It was. . . _ritualized_ , which was a word Fraser kept using when he talked about this stuff. Which always seemed distancing and anti-sexy to Ray. But that extra little bit of distance, plus having to consciously say _Okay, I’m doing this now,_ made it even less likely that Ray was going to lose control and do something stupid.

“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “I didn’t really think about. . .I mean, the boundaries, that’s obviously for both of us. But other stuff, too. Even though I mostly think about looking out for _you_ , not _me_ , when we’re doing it. . . Making sure you’re okay. Kind of a lot, actually. But if I’m thinking about keeping you safe, I can’t be. . .It keeps _me_ safe, I guess you could say. From going where I don’t want to go.”

Fraser pulled Ray in close.

“The rules are for both of us. And I’ve said before and I’ll say it again and again until you understand, that you’re not a bad man, or a hurtful one. And that I trust you.”

Ray wrapped his own arms around Fraser, sighing as the tension melted out of him. _I’m not going to disappoint you,_ he promised—silently, so he wouldn’t jinx himself. _I’ll be that man you can believe in. And I’ll be_ your _man. I’ll take care of you, if you let me. I just got to figure out how._

“I love you, Ray,” Fraser said. “And I’ll keep on saying that, too.”

“Not going to stop you,” Ray said into Fraser’s neck. “I love you, too.” He kissed Fraser’s shoulder through his soft, slightly sweaty shirt. “And thanks for dealing with. . .all this. Me and my freakouts.”

Fraser pulled back a little to smile gently at him. “Your freakouts are a part of you. As I have always been well aware. How are you feeling now? A little less freaked out?”

“Yeah. Feel like I just spent a couple of hours working the heavy bag, but. . .yeah, better.”

Fraser’s smile got a little wider.

“And it seems like you’ve articulated an important aspect of your boundaries.” Fraser’s tone split the difference between a suggestion and a question.

“Yeah,” Ray agreed, and then, when Fraser just kept looking at him expectantly, he added, “I don’t want to do anything violent. Or even. . .pretend-violent.”

Fraser nodded seriously.

“Let’s stay away from anything that looks like choking, then,” he suggested. “I know that you’re already doing things that you’re not entirely sure about.  I don’t want you to do things that feel troubling, or to do them again if you thought they’d be all right but it turned out that you ended up more disturbed than you expected.”  

Ray nodded, feeling kind of like when he was a kid and he’d be getting ready to jump off a fire escape because he couldn’t say _No_ to a dare, and then someone’s mom would come along and break it up, yelling at everyone to go home and stop trying to get themselves killed. Relieved, but with a strange little bit of disappointment mixed in.

“Yeah, okay, nothing that looks like choking.”  Except no, wait, that wasn’t what he wanted; that would land them back in the same trouble they’d just talked their way out of.

“I can still touch your throat, though, right?” he asked. “As long as it doesn’t look. . . Like, back here—”  He laid his palm on the back of his own neck.  “Or, or from the front, if it’s gentle?”

“God yes,” Fraser said emphatically, which gave Ray a little shiver of arousal. Fraser paused for a moment before adding, “Now that you feel more comfortable with your own feelings about the difference among violence, abuse and. . .what we’re doing.”

“Yeah.”  Ray licked his lips. “As far as touching your throat goes, anyway.  I don’t know if I can draw you a map, but. . .you trust me to know the difference and keep us in the safety zone?”

“I do,” Fraser replied. “I think this has been a very productive discussion for both of us in that regard.” He looked down at his wrists. “And as far as. . .other things go?” he asked, raising his eyes to Ray’s again.

Ray sat back and took Fraser’s hand. He ran his thumb gently over the ropemarks. Still not pretty, and looking at them still kind of made him queasy, but at least he could think instead of just reacting, now.

“I think. . .you put your finger on it, before, when you said it was like the choking thing.  By which I mean the not-actually-choking-at-all thing.” And okay, if he could say it half-joking like that, he really must be feeling better. “What was bugging me. . .this looks like somebody did something to you.  Something violent.  I see that, I want to bust their heads for hurting you, but seeing those marks and knowing it was _me_ that did it. . .even though I know it wasn’t like that really. . .it’s creepy.”

Fraser put his free hand on Ray’s arm.

“I’m sorry. I certainly never intended you to feel bad about it later.” He paused before adding, so quiet Ray almost didn’t catch it, “About me. About us.”

“Hey.” Ray touched Fraser’s cheek. “ _Not_ about you, or about us. It was never that. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” Fraser said, and it was kind of like the times when Ray told Fraser that a scene was over and it was time to come back to the real world. _We’re done. This is me telling you_. Only they weren’t quite done.

“And so, but, the thing is. . .” Ray tapped his thumb softly against Fraser’s wrist. “This really _wasn’t_ violent, and that makes a big difference to me.  I mean, now that I think about it that way. Which is probably why I thought it would be okay to try it in the first place.”

Fraser nodded slowly. He looked like he was honestly letting that sink in. Maybe even believed it.

“And did you feel okay about it, in the moment?” he asked. “It bothered you, now, seeing the marks, but as it was happening you didn’t seem especially troubled. I was trying to keep an eye on that, but I had other things on my mind at the time."

Ray cracked a little smile at that last part and squeezed Fraser’s hand.

“It didn’t bug me at all when we were doing it,” he said emphatically. “Matter of fact, I—” He broke off, his face heating up.

Fraser smiled at him hopefully. “Matter of fact, you. . .”

Ray looked away, biting his lip.

“I wanted—wanted you to fight the rope,” he mumbled.

“I suppose I went overboard,” Fraser said, looking down at his wrists again.

“Nah, you did. . .good. You did just what I wanted.”

“And how do you feel about the. . .lasting evidence now?” Fraser asked hesitantly, turning his wrists out for Ray’s inspection.

“Well, I’m not freaking out any more, at least,” he said slowly. He thought about how Fraser had looked as he struggled, as he came, and _that_ still made his breath catch, in a good way. But even that memory couldn’t make the marks on Fraser’s wrists look like anything but ugly.

“Look, could you. . .” He took Fraser’s hands in his. “What do you see? When you look at this.” He brushed one thumb over a bruise. “Tell me?”

“It reminds of the night you worked so hard to give me what I wanted, then. . .held me just when I needed to be held,” Fraser whispered as he looked down at his wrists. He looked up at Ray. “What do you see, Ray?”

Swallowing hard, Ray bowed his head to press his lips to Fraser’s wrist.

“Just a bruise,” he whispered. “But I like your version better.”

Fraser stroked the back of Ray’s head.

“Just a bruise, like anyone would get playing basketball?” he asked quietly. “Nothing dangerous or violent?”

Ray wanted to just nod and let it go. It _was_ just a bruise, it had never been anything to get upset about. . .but he couldn’t lie to Fraser about something like that.

“Just a bruise like my crazy partner gets all the time pulling crazy stunts like he loves to do,” he said, and somehow that actually did make him feel a little better. He glanced up to meet Fraser’s eyes, smiling a little. “Only this time, I know nothing bad happened to him. I know he was safe the whole time.”

“Well, of course he was safe, Ray. He had you with him, after all.”

Ray smiled bigger at that. He kissed Fraser’s palm, then wrapped his hand lightly around Fraser’s wrist, reaching out with the other hand to stroke his cheek.

“Listen, I. . .” He fought to keep his eyes on Fraser’s, because what he had to offer was little enough, but Fraser deserved to hear it from him. “When you—when you were fighting the rope.” He gave Fraser’s wrist a very gentle squeeze. “I—I liked it. It turned me on. Seeing you like that.”

Fraser pushed his cheek against Ray’s hand roughly, like he was daring Ray to hold him in place. Instinctively, Ray pushed back.

“Being like that turned me on,” Fraser said. “I hope you want that again.”

Ray sucked in a soft, sharp breath. Fraser was actually _asking_ for it? After everything that had happened in the past couple of days? He felt something relax inside him at the same time as his heartbeat kicked up the tempo.

“Yeah,” he said softly. Then he added, deliberately, “I want to do that to you again.”

“That sounds very. . .agreeable,” Fraser said, giving him a smile that was somehow shy and naughty at the same time. Ray was starting to get the idea that that look was kind of a specialty of Fraser’s. And it was _not_ the look of a man who was feeling uncomfortable about the idea of having sex. More like the look of a man who’d be happy to get some action right here, right now.

“It didn’t feel right, last night, ‘cause I wasn’t really sure how you were feeling about. . .things,” Ray said, sliding his thumb down over Fraser’s lips as he cupped Fraser’s cheek. “But you seem like you’re feeling okay now, and I’m feeling okay, so. . .” Fraser’s signals seemed pretty clear, and anyway the point of the magic words was it gave him a chance to say no. So Ray took a breath and went on, “You want to be good for me, Ben? Right now?”

“More than good,” Fraser offered. “I want to be the best for you, Ray.”

Ray wasn’t sure what _that_ meant, or if Fraser even meant something in particular by it, but all right: Fraser was on board. Time for Ray to drive.

He slid his hand around to the back of Fraser’s neck and squeezed lightly, just enough for Fraser to feel his grip. Fraser shivered. Oh, yeah, that obviously hit him where he lived, just like it had earlier.

“C’mon.” Ray fisted his other hand in Fraser’s Henley and pulled him to his feet. “We’re not doing this in here. I need more room to play with.” Still holding onto Fraser with both hands, Ray herded him into the bedroom, like he was ushering a perp into a holding cell. Unlike some perps, Fraser just let himself be led.

The bedroom was stinking hot, of course, although at least they’d left the windows open a little when they’d left in the morning. Ray shoved Fraser at the bed and headed for the window, deliberately not looking back as Fraser thumped onto the mattress.

“Get naked,” Ray said as he shoved the window open as wide as it would go. He moved slowly on to the other window, still with his back to the bed, listening to the sounds of Fraser getting the rest of his clothes off.

When he finally did turn around, he couldn’t really focus on anything other than Fraser, pale against the dark sheets, his arms and legs outstretched. Just like he’d looked when he’d been tied up, only without the ropes. His ankles were ringed with bruises, just like his wrists, but Ray didn’t let that rattle him. He leaned back against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and took a nice long look, letting Fraser feel good and looked-at. Then he stepped up beside the bed and trailed a finger down Fraser’s chest, making like one of those butlers who put on white gloves to check the furniture for dust. Fraser’s skin was hot and sweaty, to Ray’s total lack of surprise. Ray himself was roasting in his T-shirt and jeans, and Fraser had been wearing a lot more than that all day.

Fraser held perfectly still under Ray’s touch. Waiting for Ray’s next order, Ray guessed. Showing Ray how obedient he could be, how. . .good.

_Well, all right, then._

Ray gave Fraser’s cheek a pat, then fished the rope-ends out from under the foot of the bed. Keeping his eyes on Fraser’s face, he trailed the rope across Fraser’s ankle and up the inside of his leg, all the way up to the crease of his thigh, which was as far as it would reach. Fraser’s breath came harder and faster, the only noise in the bedroom, somehow louder than the background city noise. He wasn’t completely erect yet, but he was getting there.

As Ray tied Fraser’s ankles, he thought about a game he and Stella had played in hot weather. It hadn’t involved anyone getting tied up, of course, but it _had_ involved trying to hold still. . . Knots tied, he gave each rope a tug, looking Fraser in the eyes and raising his eyebrows. Fraser gave him a quick nod, letting Ray know everything was fine on his end. Kind of like they’d check in on the job except really, obviously, not the same thing at all.

Ray came back around the bed to pull up the rope for Fraser’s right wrist, but paused with the rope in his hand, just looking at the ring of bruises. He sat down on the edge of the bed, brought Fraser’s wrist up to his mouth, and kissed the marks. Then he licked them gently. Fraser inhaled with a hiss.

“Ray,” he whispered. Like he just couldn’t stop himself. God, Ray liked the sound of that.

“Mmm,” he sighed. He sucked at the skin of Fraser’s wrist, gently at first, then harder.

“You’re going to make it worse,” Fraser whispered, sounding kind of worried. “I mean, more visible.”

Ray slid his mouth off of Fraser’s wrist and met his eyes.

“ _You_ got a problem with that?” he asked, soft and level.

“No, Ray,” Fraser said. “I just wanted to be certain _you_ didn’t.”

“I know.” Ray squeezed Fraser’s wrist. “Don’t worry.”

Fraser curled his fingers down until the tips managed to brush Ray’s hand, then deliberately let his entire body go limp against the bed.

“That’s right,” Ray crooned. “That’s good. Don’t fight me. Just take it.”

He turned his head back to suck Fraser’s wrist again, even harder this time, enough to leave a hickey even if the skin hadn’t already been roughed up. That made Fraser moan.

“Please,” he said. “Could you. . .”

Ray paused, startled. Fraser hadn’t ever asked for something in the middle of a. . .scene. . .except that one time he’d almost asked for the belt.

“What?” he asked, with his lips still against Fraser’s skin.

“I. . .the gag. It’s still here, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” Ray said. That hadn’t been part of his plan, as far as he had a plan at all, but if Fraser wanted it bad enough to _ask_ , Ray wasn’t about to refuse. “Yeah, all right.”

“Please, Ray,” Fraser said again.

“Not too patient, are you?” Ray leaned over and fished out the silicone gag from the nightstand drawer where he’d thrown it what felt like years ago. Turning it over in his hands, he looked down at Fraser, who bit his lip like he was forcing himself not to say anything. Which, that was actually pretty hot, right there.

“This what you wanted?” Ray got the buckle open and stretched the thing out between his two hands. The. . .phallic mouthpiece thingy wobbled.

“Yes, please,” Fraser said.

“Open up, then.”

Fraser licked his lips before opening his mouth, stretching his neck to lift his head off the bed.

Ray slipped the strap behind Fraser’s head, then gently pushed on his forehead to ease him back down. Before he finished gagging Fraser, though, Ray kissed him good and thorough. If he wasn’t going to have another chance to kiss Fraser tonight, he was damn well going to get his money’s worth now.

Fraser kissed him back enthusiastically, as if he knew that Ray needed him to stop being so damn passive, even if it was just for a little while. Biting back a groan, Ray let himself get lost in how good that felt, just for a couple of seconds, before he made himself pull away and pop the silicone into Fraser’s mouth instead. He buckled the gag, then kissed Fraser’s forehead.

 _Oh, right. Bells and whistles._  He rummaged blindly in the drawer again for the scissors, which he put on out on the nightstand, and the jingle bells, which he placed in Fraser’s left hand before picking up the right one again.

Fraser moaned as he melted back into the bed, closing his eyes, his cheeks hollowing slightly as he sucked on the thing in his mouth. Biting his lips, Ray tried to focus on the way that sound went straight to his groin, instead of feeling irrationally jealous of a rubber chew toy.

He turned his attention back to Fraser’s wrist, licking it, trying to get back into the groove he’d lost. Fraser moaned again. Ray was pretty good at interpreting Fraser’s moans by now, and this sounded like the good kind. And if he was wrong he’d just have to trust Fraser to use the bells to let him know.

He set his lower teeth against the soft inside of Fraser’s wrist and his upper teeth against the bone and worried at the bruise, just softly at first, listening for Fraser’s reaction since he couldn’t really see Fraser’s face from this angle.

More moaning, more sucking. It seemed like Fraser was good with what Ray was doing. So he increased the pressure until it got too hard to override his instinct that _you don’t do that unless you’re trying to damage someone_. Then he let go and licked at the place he’d just bitten.

The moan Fraser gave this time pretty clearly meant, _Did you have to stop?_

 _Jesus. All right, then._ But Ray wasn’t exactly _surprised_ by that reaction. He was pretty clear that Fraser would happily take more pain than Ray was willing to dish out. And it was a real good sign that he was comfortable enough to let Ray know he wanted more—and to ask for the gag, and hell, for Ray to do this with him now, today. Meant he must really be feeling better since Saturday night. Ray wasn’t sure if Fraser felt he could trust Ray more, or was feeling more okay about his own desires, or both, but at least some good had come out of the whole wringer of a weekend.

So, he looked down at Fraser with a deliberate chuckle.

“Greedy, too, huh?” He gave both the words and his smile a mocking edge.

Fraser suddenly went still, opening his eyes to look up at Ray. . .yeah, apologetically. There was a muffled sound from behind the gag that might have even been a ‘Sorry.’

Ray hesitated, trying to get a read on how sorry Fraser was actually feeling. Ray had promised not to punish him or put him down for real life _character flaws,_ but in real life, _impatient_ and _greedy_ were about the last words anyone in their right mind would pick to describe Fraser. He had to know Ray was just playing the game. . .right?

“Well,” Ray said slowly, hoping that instinct would be enough to navigate him through this one. “It turns out this is your lucky day. ’Cause I’m an understanding kind of guy. And I know all about impatient and greedy.”

He brought Fraser’s wrist up to his mouth for a quick nibble, keeping his eyes on Fraser’s face. Fraser’s eyelids fluttered, like some kind of flirt from an old black and white movie. He relaxed again, making what Ray was pretty sure was a happy sound.

“Yeah. I know all about how that feels. When you just can’t wait and you want it all, right now.” Ray circled Fraser’s wrist with one hand as he stroked his cheek with the other. “But you know what? You’re just going to have to wait for what you want. Because you know why?”

Fraser shook his head, his eyes wide open again, curious.

“Because I say so,” Ray said firmly, holding Fraser’s eyes. “Because I say you have to be patient, so that’s what you’re going to do. Right?”

Fraser nodded, as serious as if he’d been giving evidence in court. That earnest look always made him look boyish, which was kind of disturbing in this context, but Ray didn’t let that throw him.

“Right. ’Cause see, here’s the thing. If I want something from you, if _I_ get tired of waiting. . .” Ray leaned over Fraser, sliding his hand down from Fraser’s cheek to the side of his neck. “I can just _take_ it. Take _you._ Nothing you can do about it.”

Fraser nodded again. But this time something about the look in his eyes seemed like he was agreeing not just with what Ray said but maybe even with some of the stuff Ray wasn’t saying, couldn’t say.

“But not right now.” Ray sat back up with a smile. “’Cause right now, I’m in the mood to play. So that’s what we’re going to do. And if you’re real good, well. . .like I said, I’m an understanding kind of guy, so good things might happen to you.”

Fraser nodded, eagerly this time. He sucked hard on his gag, as if that would encourage Ray to start playing that much faster.

Ray brushed his thumb across the silicone over Fraser’s lips before turning to pick up the rope he’d dropped earlier. He hesitated, though, because it was one thing to suck on Fraser’s wrists knowing that he’d be showing—and feeling—the marks later, but new ropeburns on top of that would be. . .a lot. And once he did tie Fraser’s wrists, then he wouldn’t be able to play with them any more, which Fraser was definitely liking. But he’d kind of promised to tie Fraser up, and he had him half-tied-up already. Then again. . .

“You know what?” He held up the rope for Fraser to see. “I was going to use this on you, but now I’m thinking maybe I don’t need to do that. ’Cause maybe you want a chance to show me how patient you can be all by yourself. How good you can be for me.”

Fraser took a deep breath through his nose, then nodded deliberately.

Well, that was a pretty clear answer. Ray dropped the rope, then stood up to shimmy out of his sweaty T-shirt. He was about to drop that on the floor, too, when a thought occurred to him. So he twisted the shirt into a strip and rolled it over Fraser’s gag, brushing against his nose—not blocking his breathing, but making sure that when he did take a breath, he’d have to smell it. Which would normally have been kind of a gross idea, except that after all that stuff Fraser had said last night about smelling him, it had turned into this sexual, romantic thing.

And Fraser liked that, all right; he started breathing harder, either because he was turned on or because he wanted to get as much of Ray’s scent as he could. Maybe both.

Ray let him have that for a little while, then laid the rolled shirt over Fraser’s eyes instead. Hopefully he’d still be able to smell it.

“Hang tight,” he told Fraser, giving him a pat on the arm. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

He went out to the kitchen, where he dumped a bunch of ice cubes into a bowl, trying to be quiet about it, although keeping Fraser from hearing what he was up to was probably a lost cause. He snagged a dishtowel while he was at it, to keep water from getting all over the nightstand. He kept one ice cube in his hand as he headed back to the bedroom; water was running down his wrist by the time he got there, but the cold felt nice on his hot skin.

“Okay.” He sat down on the edge of the bed again. “Hold still. You don’t got to keep quiet—” In fact, Ray sure hoped he wouldn’t. “—Just don’t move.” With that, he palmed the half-melted ice cube against the inside of Fraser’s thigh.

Fraser didn’t quite jump, but his body went rigid and he made a weird, surprised sound, almost a yelp. Laughing, Ray rubbed the ice slowly up the crease of Fraser’s hip and then up as far as his ribcage, by which point it had mostly melted. Fraser was shivering now, but Ray didn’t think it was from the cold. In fact, Fraser’s skin was so hot and his cock was so hard that Ray was pretty sure he’d discovered one of Fraser’s favorite things.

“Oh yeah,” he murmured, reaching into the bowl with both hands. He rubbed them around in there, letting the ice rattle, until they were both cool. He popped an ice cube into his mouth, then laid one hand under Fraser’s jaw while the other trailed another piece of ice down the center of Fraser’s chest. He could feel Fraser tense up in an effort to keep still.

“Good job, buddy, you’re doing good,” Ray murmured around the ice in his mouth as he moved the ice in his hand over Fraser’s left nipple. The sound that came out of Fraser’s throat made it clear he thought Ray was doing a good job, too.

Ray lifted Fraser’s wrist to his mouth and used his tongue to rub his melting ice-cube over the bruised skin. This time, Fraser’s moan sounded more like he was getting a really good backrub, like the ice was soothing him more than arousing him. Though he still seemed pretty damned aroused, Ray decided with satisfaction.

He kept playing with the ice on Fraser’s wrists for a while, sometimes using his mouth and sometimes his fingers, alternating that with running the ice over Fraser’s nipples. The whole time, he could feel Fraser trembling under him. That got Ray shivery and excited himself, knowing that this was turning Fraser on so hard that he couldn’t completely control his reaction. Ray’s jeans were starting to feel too tight as well as too hot, but he didn’t want to stop to get rid of them, not right yet.

He moved down to the foot of the bed with an ice cube in each hand and stroked them over the soles of Fraser’s feet, which jerked involuntarily. Right. Ticklish.

Smirking, Ray leaned down to kiss each of Fraser’s big toes. Hopefully that would let Fraser know that Ray wasn’t counting that twitch against him, just in case he was worrying. Then he knelt between Fraser’s spread legs, swallowed the ice he was sucking on, and lowered his chilled mouth over the head of Fraser’s impossibly hot cock.

As soon as Ray’s lips touched him, Fraser’s hips bucked wildly, shoving his cock into Ray’s mouth. Ice went flying as Ray pinned Fraser down with both hands, just barely managing to avoid a smack in the face. For a couple of startled seconds, he struggled frantically not to gag or bite down, until Fraser managed to hold himself still again. Ray couldn’t help laughing, even though that was kind of hard with his mouth full of Fraser’s cock.

He pulled off to catch a breath and glance up at Fraser’s face to check if he was okay. The t-shirt had slipped off to one side, and Fraser was looking at him kind of sheepishly, which was an odd look for a guy with a big black gag over his mouth.

Ray didn’t know whether Fraser wanted Ray to reassure him or play tough guy, but right that second he couldn’t do anything but grin. He would have kissed Fraser if the damn gag hadn’t been in the way. Instead, he settled for scrambling up the bed to ruffle his hair, rough but friendly.

Fraser gave him a look that seemed to acknowledge just how goofy sex could sometimes get. He pushed his head against Ray’s hand, which felt almost like just regular rough-and-tumble sex and filled Ray with a confusing mixture of relief and longing on top of the remains of his laughter. He couldn’t stop to think about that, though; he was in the middle of something, here. He needed to get them back on track.

He stroked Fraser’s hair gently, then ran his hands along Fraser’s arms, which were still lying outstretched more or less where they’d been all along. He kept stroking, with just a little pressure, like you did with a nervous dog when you wanted it to stay lying down. It didn’t take much of that to get Fraser relaxed again. Well, most of him, anyway.

Checking out Fraser’s bare cock reminded Ray that he was still wearing his damn jeans. So he got up to get rid of them, which gave him a little time to get his head back in the game and think about what to do next. Fraser watched him; he was back to sucking on his. . .thing. Like that would make Ray go faster or something.

“Unh-unh,” Ray said, without consciously deciding to. He took hold of Fraser’s chin, laying his thumb over the center of the gag, right over Fraser’s mouth. “Don’t go doing that. You’re waiting for me, you’re not. . .doing yourself.”

Fraser’s mouth immediately clamped down. He looked up at Ray anxiously, and damn it, that looked like actual anxiety, not just Fraser’s submissive face. Ray wasn’t totally sure what was causing it. He’d told Fraser to stop doing stuff before and been surprised how much Fraser had seemed to _like_ that. But then Fraser also hated the idea of disappointing Ray, and where the heck was the line between giving orders and telling Fraser he was doing it wrong?

“Good,” he told Fraser, as matter-of-factly as he could. “That’s what I like to see. Man who can follow instructions.”

Fraser nodded once, looking much more confident. Thank God, Ray had called that one right. Fraser continued to watch him, waiting, probably looking for clues about what might come next.

Which was a good question, really. But saying that thing about waiting had reminded Ray of what he’d been vaguely planning earlier. He wasn’t totally confident that Fraser was in the right mood for it, now, but he thought it would probably be all right, and he sure didn’t have any _other_ idea right this second. So he fished the lube out of the nightstand drawer, and then went back to kneel between Fraser’s legs again; with Fraser spread-eagled over the bed, it was the only place there was room for Ray. Fraser’s eyes went wide, like he’d had no idea that this where Ray was going to take them but he was totally up for the ride.

“You’ve been real good so far,” Ray said. “I know you want to touch me—” At least, Ray hoped that was true. “—Taste me, feel me all over you. . .”

“Mmm,” Fraser moaned in passionate agreement.

“It’d feel so good right now, wouldn’t it?”

Ray slicked up his fingers and reached around to finger himself, which was awkward and kind of embarrassing, because honestly, this had never been on Ray’s list of sexy things to watch. He just hoped Fraser felt differently about that. But Fraser closed his eyes.

 _What the hell?_ Ray wondered, but before he could get really embarrassed, he realized that Fraser was probably just being polite. Because back before their sex life got so. . .complicated. . .Ray had once mentioned how awkward he felt about doing this for himself. So now Fraser was giving him some privacy.

Ray thought about telling him to look. He’d meant for Fraser to watch. . .But he’d just told Fraser to stop doing something he was doing, and that had kind of freaked Fraser out, and honestly it might be less awkward to do this part without Fraser looking at him. Except he didn’t want Fraser totally shut away from him like that, either.

Well, Fraser could still hear him, at least. Even if he couldn’t talk back.

Ray grabbed the T-shirt from where it was lying near Fraser’s head. He draped it back over Fraser’s eyes as carefully as he could before settling back on his knees. Fraser made a happy, encouraging noise.

“Mm, yeah, you can’t see me or touch me, but you still know exactly what I’m doing, don’t you?” Ray breathed out slow and easy as he slid his finger back into his ass. It always felt more weird than good at first, and he wasn’t anywhere near as good at opening himself as Fraser was at doing it to him.

Fraser lifted his right hand lifted fractionally, then let it fall back on the bed, his fingers curling against his palm. Like maybe he wanted to be doing this for Ray, too.

Ray bit his lip and shook his head. That wasn’t the name of the game, not with Fraser half-tied to the bed. Though on the other hand, there was the other kind of game Fraser liked, the kind where he wasn’t passive or restrained but actively. . .serving Ray. So Ray _could_ tell him to. . . But no, this was not the time to be switching horses. He could worry about. . .other options, and how he felt about them, later. Right now, he had a plan to follow.

“Yeah, you’d like to touch, wouldn’t you?” It was getting easier to slide his finger in and out. “Or for me to touch you—” His breath caught as he switched to two fingers and was startled by that weird too much/want more feeling. “—Like this. You want something, anything. Everything. Don’t you?”

Fraser’s groan was a new one on Ray. It was pretty obviously enthusiastic agreement, and gratitude, too, maybe not just for what Ray was doing, but. . .like he was grateful that Ray understood what he was feeling. The sound pulled an answering groan from Ray’s chest as he twisted his fingers, and his voice was unsteady as he went on:

“I know, I know just how you feel, but you’re just going to have to wait. ’Cause right now, it’s—unh—” And there it was, that switch-flip where suddenly his fingers sliding in and out of his ass stopped feeling weird and started feeling _good._ “It’s time for me to get what _I_ want. ‘Cause I don’t have to wait if I don’t feel like it. I can—can take what I want from you any—time I want.”

Ray heard a faint jingle from Fraser’s left hand. He jerked his head around to look, but Fraser wasn’t dropping the bells. The opposite, actually; his hand had clenched tighter. Ray let out a little relieved breath. Still on the right track.

“Going to _use_ you,” he said, hoping that was still the good kind of creepy. “You’re going to be good and hold still for me, right?”

Fraser moaned and tensed to keep himself perfectly still, waiting.

Ray fished around for the lube, squirted some more on his right hand, and gave Fraser’s cock two fast strokes, up and down, just enough to paint him with the stuff. Fraser made a sound which, although muffled by the gag and a stray T-shirt sleeve, was obviously both surprised and pleased.

“That’s good, you’re nice and hard,” Ray said as he scooted forward to straddle Fraser, still up on his knees, touching him as little as possible. “That’s just what I need, that’s going to feel so good.”

Between the T-shirt and the gag, Fraser’s face was basically completely covered. Ray decided he’d had enough of that: not being able to read Fraser’s face for cues was making him anxious, plus, as long as he was jumping through hoops to blow Fraser’s mind, he wanted the fun of seeing the effects. That was only fair. So he tossed the shirt aside.

Bracing himself with one hand on his thigh, he reached around behind himself, found Fraser’s cock, and got it into position. It _did_ feel good, but he held himself there, not pushing, not letting Fraser in yet. Fraser was breathing hard, now, faint grunts coming with each exhale. Both of them were soaked with sweat and the smell of sex was so strong Ray could practically taste it.

“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Don’t push. I know you want to, but you can’t. Stay right there.” And he lowered himself onto Fraser’s cock, just a tiny bit, just the head inside him. And stopped, and waited.

And Fraser was doing what he was told, he was waiting too, completely still except for his chest rising and falling with each short, sharp breath. He was being . . .good. For Ray.

Ray drew it out as long as he could, pushing down on Fraser’s cock real slow, until his thighs were shaking from holding himself up and from the urge to just slam down. He kept his eyes locked on Fraser’s face the whole time. When he finally had Fraser all the way inside him, he stopped again, balling his fists against his thighs and whispering, “Fuck fuck fuck,” until he had himself under some kind of control.

This was hardly the first time he’d ridden Fraser, but Fraser was studying him intently, like he was something fascinating and new that Fraser had already decided he liked a lot and wanted more of. Which made it a hell of a lot harder for Ray to focus and stop himself from just letting loose and driving Fraser into the mattress. But it also made him want even more to do this right and _keep_ that look on Fraser’s face. So he took a breath, smiled down at Fraser, and clenched around him, just once.

Fraser’s breath caught and his eyes blinked shut, then he took a deep breath and opened them again to stare up at Ray in shocked pleasure.

“Yeah, that’s good,” Ray said, and Jesus, his voice was wobbling all over the place. “That’s what I need from you. Just like that.”

He wrapped his still-kind-of-slippery hand around his own cock and started stroking himself, as light and slow as he could stand. He could feel his thighs and butt tightening reflexively as the pleasure built, and he consciously squeezed them more, knowing Fraser would feel it.

Fraser’s fingers clenched; he was obviously fighting the impulse to touch Ray, to move, to do something, anything, other than just enjoy what Ray was giving him. Watching him was almost too much for Ray: he had to stop moving his hand and close his eyes for a second.

 _Fuck it, it’ll work this way, too_ , he decided.

“Give me your hands,” he said, as sternly as he could while he was trying to hold himself together. He held out his own hands, palms-up. “Give ‘em here.”

Fraser immediately put his right palm against Ray’s. He held up his left hand and jingled the bells a little, raising a questioning eyebrow. Ray mentally slapped himself for forgetting about the bells, but no, it was all right, he could work around that.

“It’s okay,” he told Fraser. “Keep hold of that. I don’t need your fingers.”

He wrapped Fraser’s right hand around his cock; the touch of Fraser’s skin on his sent a shiver through him.

“Real slow,” he said. “Like I was doing.” He gave Fraser’s hand a little squeeze, then released it.

And of course, even an obedient Fraser was still a competitive Fraser. He didn’t jack Ray as slowly as Ray had been doing himself; he went just a little bit slower. Ray half-laughed, half-moaned, arching back and clenching around Fraser’s cock. Fraser’s hand on him felt so much more intense than his own had.

Bracing himself again with his free hand on his thigh, Ray brought Fraser’s left wrist to his mouth and kissed all around it, making sure to leave Fraser’s hand free to drop the bells if he needed to.

Fraser kept stroking Ray at the same steady, impossibly slow pace, not letting Ray’s mouth on his damaged skin distract him. He was distracting the hell out of Ray, though. It was all he could do to stay up on his knees with Fraser touching him inside and outside. He swore against Fraser’s skin, then bit down hard.

Fraser made a startled sound, but his hand kept up its steady motion. _Inexorable_ , Ray thought, as he glanced down to make sure that was a good noise and not a bad one. _Fraser’s favorite word_.

Fraser had closed his eyes again; between that and the gag, it was hard to really read his expression. But from the way Fraser kept stroking him, criminally slow and somehow incredibly tender at the same time, Ray figured he wasn’t unhappy. So he went back to sucking and nibbling at Fraser’s wrist, sometimes throwing in a harder bite. He couldn’t keep it up for long, though. He was going to go out of his fucking mind if he didn’t move or thrust or something, anything, he needed more. . .

“Fuck, more, c’mon, Ben—” he babbled, shoving clumsily at Fraser’s elbow. “More, _now,_ oh God. . .”

And Fraser increased the pressure just a little, and picked up the pace quite a lot, until it was just right, the way Fraser knew Ray liked it from . . .before, but Ray didn’t want to think about _before_ or _after_ or anything but _now_.

“Yeah, oh, that’s—like that—shit, that’s—”  The words coming out of his mouth were a jumbled mess, like his thoughts, as the orgasm tore him apart, faster than he’d expected. It was all he could do to keep from falling over as he shuddered, groaning against Fraser’s wrist.

Fraser gently moved his hand from Ray’s cock to his hip. Kind of messy, but he got a strong enough grip to help keep Ray upright. Ray wasn’t sure how the hell Fraser was holding it that much together right now.

Trembling, Ray started rocking up and down, clenching and relaxing his muscles around Fraser’s cock as he moved. He’d gotten so used to the feeling of just having Fraser in him, that the movement shocked a groan out of him.

Fraser’s hand tightened on Ray’s hip. He moaned urgently, looking up at Ray, obviously as desperate as Ray had felt a minute ago, and wanting, needing something. . .probably permission, Ray realized. He hadn’t told Fraser not to come _,_ but maybe Fraser assumed that when they were doing this kind of thing, he had to wait even if Ray didn’t say so. Which maybe was something they should talk about—but now was so not the moment to worry about it.

“Good job,” he said softly, looking into Fraser’s eyes. “You done good. Now I’m going to give you your reward. You just let go now and let it happen.” He started rocking again, gradually speeding up as he held Fraser’s gaze. “It ain’t your job to worry about anything anymore. Just take what I’m giving you.”

Fraser’s head tilted back as he bucked up into Ray, his hand now gripping so tight that Ray was pretty sure he’d have some bruises of his own. It hurt a little, but Ray barely noticed, because the sight of Fraser taken over by need, going nuts with it, was enough to drive Ray crazy himself. He was still coming down from the orgasm, but Jesus, this was winding him right back up again; maybe not his dick, but all the rest of him. He grunted as he pushed back against Fraser, letting him take over the rhythm, just trying to stay with him as his pace got more frantic and the sounds muffled by the gag started to sound like they might be actual words instead of just incoherent moans.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right, c’mon,” Ray murmured breathlessly. Fraser gave him one last, long, sweet moan as he came.

Ray pulled gently off him and lowered himself down to lie with his head on Fraser’s shoulder and his arm over Fraser’s chest. He had to curl his legs kind of awkwardly to fit between Fraser’s, which were still stretched out towards the corners of the bed. But holding Fraser felt more urgent than untying him.

Fraser cautiously wrapped his arms around Ray’s torso, like he wasn’t sure it was okay. The slight rattle of the bells reminded Ray that however this was ending, it hadn’t started out like . . .well, it had started out the way Fraser liked it.

Ray propped himself up for long enough to undo the gag and get it off of Fraser. He wiped his hand over Fraser’s mouth and chin to at least sort-of dry them, then tugged the bells out of Fraser’s grasp. He dropped both items on the nightstand.

“I’ll untie you in a minute,” he whispered. “I just. . .we’re going to do this first, okay?”

“Of course, Ray,” Fraser agreed, his voice hoarse but sounding content.

That submissive tone made Ray realize that this wasn’t really what he wanted, though. He wanted a cuddle, yeah, but not with Fraser bound and waiting on his orders. No point in wrecking the mood by getting grumpy about it, though.

“Actually, you know what?” he said, as cheerfully as he could manage. “Change of plans.”

He kissed Fraser’s forehead and climbed off the bed to untie his feet.

“Yes, Ray?” Fraser asked as he flexed his feet and stretched his toes.

“That’s better. Now there’s room for me.” Ray lay down beside Fraser, putting his head back on Fraser’s shoulder. “I’m telling you we’re done now.”

Fraser put his arms around Ray, pulling him in close and getting them both settled comfortably. He kissed the top of Ray’s head.

“Thank you, Ray,” he said quietly.

They were both still and quiet together for a long time before Fraser spoke again.

“I love you, Ray. Not just for this.” He lifted one hand to make a vague gesture, then landed it gently on Ray’s shoulder again. “For everything.”

Ray rubbed his cheek against Fraser’s shoulder. “And I love you.”

“I’m not sure I’ve really told you just what you do for me,” Fraser insisted.

“Hmm?” Ray murmured as he snuggled closer.

“What you did, before, with the ice. . .”

Ray couldn’t help tensing a little, even though he was sure—almost sure—that the ice had been a winner.

“You liked that?” he offered, hoping that his instincts weren’t failing him.

Fraser rubbed his cheek against the top of Ray’s head.

“So much,” he said.  “I wish. . . Well, when I was experimenting with my own sexual desire, when I was young, you understand?”

“Sure. . .” said Ray, not sure where this was going but figuring Fraser would make it clear soon enough.

“There was one particularly long winter during which I felt such passionate longing for the things I couldn’t have yet. . .” Fraser trailed off. “Well, there was a lot of ice and snow available and I was of an adventurous nature, so. . .”

Ray couldn’t help a startled snort of laughter.

“In _winter_?  Wasn’t that awfully. . .cold?”

“Well, had I been inclined to masturbate outside, that, I think, would have been too much of a good thing,” Fraser said, getting all prim like he did at the weirdest times. “But I take your meaning. I would. . .enjoy myself, then put my hand to the window, making it cold, and then touch myself until it got warm again.”

“Yeah?”  The act itself didn’t sound like much fun to Ray, but imagining Fraser jerking off. . .no, _playing_ with himself, figuring out how to push his own buttons. . .that was kind of hot.  It always turned Ray on to hear Fraser talk about sex, about what he liked, but the feeling was mixed with something sweeter, too.

“I’d get myself very excited indeed that way.” Fraser sounded kind of nostalgic. “One night, I opened the window, just a little, and I kept bringing myself to the precipice, over and over, and just when I knew I was about to come, I’d take a handful of snow and, as the Victorians would say, quiet myself.  I did that. . .oh, I’m sure it wasn’t _all_ night, but for a long time.”

Ray gently circled Fraser’s belly button with one finger tip, not trying to start anything, just to let Fraser know he was listening.  He wondered if this was Fraser’s way of dropping hints, or just a scenic detour en route to his actual point.  Or both.   _She edged me four times,_ he remembered Fraser telling him, what seemed like ages ago although it really wasn’t.  Yeah, definitely something to keep in mind for the future.

“I eventually allowed myself release, which was so intense I nearly passed out.”  Fraser paused, then nudged Ray’s foot with his own. “And not because of any deliberate constriction of airways,” he said, sounding like maybe he wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure it was okay to.

Ray chuckled. “And not because you’d frozen your nuts off either, huh?”

“No.” Fraser did laugh, now. “I made sure everything was very safe and that I was only cold where I wanted to be cold.  I did similar things through the years; maybe it was unusual, but it brought me a great deal of pleasure and harmed no one, so I felt good about it in all possible ways.  Until. . .” He broke off.

Ray gave Fraser’s foot a gentle nudge back to encourage him to go on.

“Well, I imagine you can guess the circumstances under which, for me, sex and cold combined.  Along with true love, or so I thought.”

 _Shit.  Shit, shit, shit._  He _had_ screwed it up.  Except Fraser hadn’t freaked out, he’d seemed to be having a good time with the ice cubes, why hadn’t he told Ray to knock it off, if. . . ?

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to. . .” said Ray in a small voice.

“You didn’t,” Fraser reassured him. “I’d always told people. . .before. . .that I had a hard limit on playing with ice.  When I heard you in the kitchen and realized what you were doing, I did have a brief moment of fear.  But then I remembered what I said before: it’s you.  It’s not her, it’s not just someone I know from. . .someplace.  It’s Ray.”

Ray bit his lip, fighting not to panic.   _It’s okay,_ he told himself.   _He could have said to stop.  He knew, and he could have said stop, but he didn’t.  He chose not to._

“Okay. . . ?” he ventured.

“And I wasn’t anxious or worried anymore.  For years, before she came back, she was nearly all I would think about when I. . .I remember being in warm, sunny rooms by myself, touching myself, thinking of her and I could feel the snow coming down on me.  And when she came back, she took that away, too: the cold, the way it made me feel.  And just now, you. . .gave it back.” Fraser pulled Ray into his arms and held him tight. “And maybe someone else could’ve, in much the same way, but I never gave them a chance to try.  And I’m glad. I’m glad I didn’t give anyone else, not even myself, that chance, because now it’s one more thing you’ve given back to me.”

It felt like some spring inside Ray uncoiled with a sudden snap, leaving him limp in Fraser’s embrace.  He buried his face in Fraser’s shoulder, hugging him as well as he could from being partway on top of him.

“Let me give you the moon?  Or at least try?” he whispered, and damn it all, he hadn’t meant to say the words out loud.  He held still, held his breath, waiting to feel Fraser’s body go rigid under him like on Saturday night.   _Please, God, no. . ._

But Fraser just kissed the top of Ray’s head. “In some ways, you already have. And I’m finally able to accept what you’re willing to give me, now and in the future.”

Something swelled in Ray’s chest and throat, like he’d swallowed a balloon; it choked off his breath and his words, so that he could barely manage to whisper, “Thank you,” into Fraser’s shoulder.

“Thank _you_ , Ray,” Fraser said, and this time, Ray could tell Fraser wasn’t thanking him for. . .tolerating him or catering to him or whatever it was Fraser usually thanked him for.  He was thanking Ray for being there for him.

“I love you,” Fraser repeated.

“I love you, too.”

It was a good thing Ray wasn’t in any shape to get out more words than that, because this was a giant thing Fraser had given him right here, and the last thing Ray wanted to do was spook him with _You know I’d do anything for you_ or _Move in with me_ or worse, _Promise you’ll never leave me._ There was probably other stuff he _should_ say, too, but he was fucked-out and talked-out and lying in Fraser’s arms, his body and mind finally relaxing. Seemed like Fraser felt the same, happy to just hold him and doze off together, and that was a boat not worth rocking; not tonight. Tomorrow was soon enough to worry about what he’d done wrong or right just now, how to plan for next time, not to mention the more complicated stuff. Tonight they deserved simple. The two of them, sated and dozing skin-to-skin in their bed. That was enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> Begun as a collaboration, finished as a solo project, posted with permission, final responsibility is mine.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Preposterous Cyborg Cock](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4939555) by [ButterflyGhost](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButterflyGhost/pseuds/ButterflyGhost)




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